


Don't Stand in the Wind

by EffervescentYellow



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: "Conversion Therapy", Angst, Arrest, Bisexual Character, Blind Character, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I promise there will be a positive ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentYellow/pseuds/EffervescentYellow
Summary: Sometimes things are just meant to be the way they are.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a hot day at Downton, unusually so for a May morning. Sweat had been pricking at his brow all morning and his stiff uniform had only felt more confining that usual, but when read the small telegram handed to him by the hall boy, he felt a wave of cold splash over him, making his feet go numb beneath him.

“Are you quite alright, Mr. Barrow?” Mrs. Hughes asked, looking at him with a sudden look of concern, “You look rather faint, if I may say so.”

“No, I – I’m…the heat must be getting to me is all.” Thomas took in a deep breath before turning into his room and sitting down at his desk. 

He couldn’t stop staring at the small piece of paper in front of him though.

The Courtenays would be coming for dinner next Tuesday.

\---

Thomas spent the next week having his nights filled with memories from the war. He knew he must look just as terrible as he felt because everyone took his orders without complaint, even the hall boys, not wishing to upset him further. He kept blaming it on the heat, but by the time Tuesday arrived, even Lady Mary stopped him after breakfast to ask if one of the other servants might feel more up to serving dinner for the guests.

He almost agreed to let Mr. Bates and Andy lead for the evening to avoid facing the Courtenays entirely, but somewhere within him, he felt a very deep need to attend the dinner, so he declined and promised to look more presentable by the afternoon.

He wasn’t sure if he succeeded really at looking more presentable. He saw his face on the serving tray before heading up to the dining room, and even in the distortion of the curved silver he could see the dark smudges under his eyes and the dreadful lack of color on his cheeks.

Dinner went smoothly for the first two courses. Edward’s parents (or the Earl and Countess of Devon as Thomas kept reminding himself) seemed just as refined and pointedly bland as most other British nobility. It was Jack, the infamous brother Thomas had heard so much about years before that already grated on Thomas even after just an hour in his presence. He quite plainly would not stop talking and drinking, and the more he drank the more he talked, his voice pitched louder than anyone else in the room. 

While at first the conversation stayed in topics like shipping investments and new automobiles, by the third course the countess had finally been able to sneak a word in as Jack was gesturing for more wine and to Thomas’ dread inquired about the history of Downton. Lord and Lady Grantham were more than happy to oblige, and it was only when they reached the war period that Thomas felt his lips form into a rigid line and his bad hand begin to twinge with phantom pain.

The elder Lord Courtenay, who had been quiet as well throughout the whole evening then interjected, “I was aware that Downton Abbey was converted into a hospital during the war; my elder son was sent here after he was injured on the front. Maybe you met him?”

“Well I can’t say that I did unfortunately, but our Butler, Mr. Barrow, was working in the hospital during that time as a medic, it’s possible he did,” Lord Grantham looked down the long table towards Thomas, and everyone else’s eyes followed suit.

Thomas felt a surge of panic through his entire body and almost dropped the sinfully expensive wine bottle of his hand before gaining enough composure to answer. “Yes, I…I did meet him.”

“You met Edward?” Jack pipped up across the table, “God that must have been terrible, what a ghastly state he was in then.”

Thomas really could have clubbed him on the head then, but years of training hadn’t been to waste as he managed instead to keep a very diplomatic tone, “It was quite a ghastly time for most of us I believe.”

“And we should all be quite grateful of those who served for us. It’s a pity he couldn’t be with us today.“ Edward’s mother sent a pointed look towards her younger son, but Jack was rather too intoxicated to notice.

“I can’t say it’s much of a pity as far as I’m concerned. You know he came and saw us all a few months back and he’s not as terrifically depressed as he used to be but honestly still a downright bore.”

“Jack, please,” the countess turned to the Grantham’s with a tight smile, “Our eldest son, Edward, has been working for a veteran’s association in London. It’s quite different having him working, and so far away, but I think he’s doing lovely, patriotic work.”

As the conversation drifted into other subjects, Thomas’ head was buzzing. He couldn’t tell if he was going to be sick or faint or possibly both, so as inconspicuously as possible he handed the wine off to Andy and slipped from the room. As soon as he was out of sight he half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs and shut himself in his office, feeling chilled to the bone despite the stickiness of the evening heat.

\---

He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting at his desk, head in hands, when someone knocked on his door.

“Come in,” he said wearily, sucking in a deep breath and lifting his head only to find Lady Mary standing in the doorway. “I apologize for my performance at dinner this evening, M’lady. I should have taken your advice this morning.”

“Never mind that now Mr. Barrow. Dinner was quite an eventful affair overall, regardless. I just wanted to come down and see if you were alright. You’ve been looking quite dreadful all week and I fear all that talk of war this evening didn’t help,” 

“I became quite close with Edward Courtenay when he was in hospital at Downton, M’lady, but I didn’t…I had no idea he was alive.”

Lady Mary was looking at him even more seriously now, “I can see how that could be a great shock.”

“Indeed, it was – is.”

“I think you should take the rest of the evening off; everything is going quite smoothly for now. In fact, take the morning of as well, I really would rather not keep seeing those circles under your eyes. It really isn’t attractive in a butler at all.”

\---

Thomas tried to rest, but found himself kept awake with thoughts of Edward, his chestnut brown hair, unfocused eyes, and blood dripping from his fingertips. He felt haunted by the fact that this man still existed in the world after all these years without his knowledge. He thought he should feel comforted, but instead he just lay wide-eyed in bed, hands and feet still cold from shock. 

By three in the morning, still awake, he got dressed and pulled out the thick directory of London businesses from underneath his desk. He skimmed through the pages trying to find every business and organization related to veterans or the military in any way and began to write letters to each asking if they had an Edward Courtenay in their employment.

\---

Things returned to normal over the next few days, though Thomas awoke each morning with a nervous pit in his stomach at what the mail would bring. A few organizations responded quickly but with no luck for Thomas. Finally, though a letter arrived from St. Dunstan’s in Regent’s Park confirming that one Edward Courtenay was in their employment. Included in the letter was an address to reach Mr. Courtenay directly.

Thomas carried the letter around in his pocket for about a week without writing anything. He found it comforting to have such concrete proof that Edward was alive with him and would take it out to read it again whenever there was a quiet moment. What also kept him from writing was that he frankly had no idea what to say after so many years and no proof that Edward would even remember him. Furthermore, he knew that Edward more than likely had not regained any sight, therefore anything he wrote would need to be read to him by a third party, therefore he didn’t want the letter to be too personal or emotional. Eventually though he got sick of stressing and wrote a very plain letter informing Edward that he had just discovered his whereabouts and was curious to know how he was. It came out to be a pitifully short letter, but Thomas put it in the mail anyways and hoped Edward wouldn’t mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Mr. Barrow,

I was very surprised to receive a letter from you, but I cannot say that I wasn’t wonderfully glad to receive it. Of course, I remember you. You were a great friend to me during that difficult period of my life, and I frankly would like to apologize for leaving you in such a dreadful way and never contacting you afterwards, but I was quite unsure what you would think of it all. I am doing quite well now, though my eyesight unfortunately has never improved. After spending time in a few different hospitals and then my family home in Devon, I came to St. Dunstan’s to learn how to regain my life without eyesight and have been working here since. My life is nothing like I would have imagined it either before or right after the war, but I find I’m fairly content now. I hope you are doing well. From your address I see you are still working at Downton Abbey. I do hope you’re getting along better there than you seemed to be all those years ago. Do please write again. My neighbor, Mrs. Lawrence, has been kind enough to read your letter to me and transcribe my reply, and I believe she would be willing to do the same in the future. If possible, please send my regards to Nurse Crawley as well.

Sincerely,  
Edward Courtenay

The letter had only arrived two days ago, but it was already deeply creased from being read and folded into Thomas’ pocket so many times. It was still a shock to think about Edward being alive in London, but now with a letter directly from the man himself, Thomas had started to feel a giddy sense of joy more than anything else.

“You look quite happy, Mr. Barrow,” Anna smiled at him as she came around the corner, catching him with the letter open in his hand once again.

“I – am actually. I’ve just received a letter from a very old friend who I haven’t heard from in a long time.”

“Isn’t that lovely. It must be a very good friend to make you smile this much,” she teased, giving another genuine smile before heading off upstairs.

The only thing that stopped Thomas from immediately writing a reply to Edward was the last sentence of the letter. In the haste of things, Thomas hadn’t even considered the fact that, of course, if Edward was interested in hearing from Thomas, he must be equally interested in hearing from Lady Sybil, and of course, he would have no idea that Lady Sybil had passed away. It had been a long time since Thomas had felt real pain at the thought of Sybil’s passing, but the idea of breaking the news to someone else who had been just as touched by her kindness was quite difficult. That night he sat down after completing the day’s tasks and over a cup of tea composed a reply.

Dear Mr. Courtenay,

I am glad to hear that my letter was welcome, I must admit I feared it would bring back memories of such a difficult time and therefore not be. I am also glad to hear that you’ve been doing well these past few years. I imagine London must be a very interesting place to live after Devon. As you guessed, I am still working at Downton, though I have fortunately grown to enjoy my time here much more. I am the butler here now, which is a great change. My life is much busier because of it, but I’ve developed a much greater relationship with the other staff as well, which came as a welcome surprise.

I do deeply regret to inform you that I am unable to pass on your regards to Lady Sybil Crawley. She passed away just two years after the war during childbirth. Her daughter survived and I’m glad to say is just as kind and rebellious as her mother was, though everyone in the house still misses Lady Sybil’s presence deeply.

I hate to end on such a sad note, but I do hope you’ll continue to write, and please thank Mrs. Lawrence for her services.

Sincerely,  
Thomas Barrow

\---

Dear Mr. Barrow,

I am very sorry to hear about Lady Crawley; she was a wonderful nurse and friend. I’m glad to hear her daughter has turned out the same way. The world could always use more people like her. 

Congratulations as well on becoming the butler. As I recall, when we met the first time, you were just aiming to become a valet or to run off and become a wealthy entrepreneur. I suppose it might still be unfortunate that you didn’t become a wealthy entrepreneur, but a butler is a very good position indeed, and if I may say so, I imagine you’re doing a wonderful job at it. It seems quite lucky that you found a job that fits you so well. I’ve been working in the gardens here at St. Dunstan’s and have recently been teaching some gardening courses to other veterans. While I do genuinely enjoy the work, I find that I’m truly quite a poor gardener and a terrible teacher. Why they keep me on I haven’t any clue other than I suppose I do know quite a bit about the business and economic side of agriculture. Not that that is much use when trying to determine what type of pest is eating the leaves on my tomato plants, though.

As always, keep in touch,  
Edward

\---

As the weeks past, their letters got more and more frequent, and Thomas had been trying to think of any way possible to get himself to London to meet Edward in person, but with no real success. In the end, it didn’t seem like it would matter when in late June another letter arrived from Edward.

Dear Thomas,

Yes, I have decided to drop the Mr. Barrow nonsense entirely and I’ll hope you’ll just call me Edward finally as well. I’ve been signing my letters that way practically this whole time, but to no avail. I do believe at this point we are no longer just old acquaintances, but real friends, and I would like to be addressed that way as well.

Furthermore, Mrs. Lawrence has been informing me that when she agreed to read my mail, she never expected this many letters, and frankly I agree that this is a lot to ask of my poor neighbor. In the interest of preserving her good will for future correspondences, I have decided that rather than writing you, I would like to come visit you myself. Now that we’re in the summer months, I am able to take time off rather as I please, so I’ve bought a train ticket to come to Downton two weeks from now. Unless you write me immediately saying that you’re absolutely busy and I mustn’t come, expect to see me soon.

Your friend,  
Edward


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas tried not to take too much time off. Carson never did even though technically it was perfectly allowable, but Thomas figured if Carson didn’t take time off then he shouldn’t either if he was to stay in the Crawley’s good graces. Unlike Carson, however, Thomas did in fact believe that some things were more important than work and took his half day off on the day of Edward’s arrival. 

Edward was coming on the midday train from London, so by half past noon Thomas found himself sitting on the bench on the platform waiting for the huffing sound of the train to reach him. He had been quite surprised by Edward’s announcement that he was coming to Downton. Although he of course wished they would meet in person, he never really expected that their friendship would extend beyond their letters and therefore hadn’t quite contemplated what it would mean to meet Edward in person. Other than their recent correspondence, their friendship before had been brought about entirely by a mutual disgust and dissatisfaction with the world around them and had existed only within the context of injury and war. How they would get along now, Thomas really wasn’t sure, but he had found understanding in the man before and hoped it could be found again. He was so used to feeling calm and in control when meeting others that these nervous thoughts were knocking him off balance, so much so that it took him a few moments to register the train pulling into the station in front of him when it finally did arrive.

As the passengers began to get off the train, Thomas spotted a man in a tawny suit slowly making his way down the steps of the train with a small case in one hand and a long cane in the other. Once on the ground, Edward seemed momentarily lost before following in the general direction of the other passengers, tapping his cane in front of him as he went. 

Still feeling rather jittery, Thomas made his way across the station, “Mr. Courtenay?”

The brown-haired man stopped, and smiled nervously, “That’s me.”

“It’s me, Thomas.”

“Ah,” he smirked good-naturedly and stuck out his hand for Thomas to shake, “It’s Edward to you then.”

“Right, Edward. It’s so good to see you,” Thomas couldn’t help but smile back at the man, already beginning to feel much less concerned about their meeting. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble getting here.”

“Not at all, I quite enjoy a chance to get out of London if I’m honest. Though I’m quite glad you’re here to show me around.”

As Thomas took Edward’s case to lead him towards the inn where he’d be staying, Edward reached out found Thomas’s arm, wrapping his hand right above Thomas’s elbow. OF course Thomas knew that it was a utilitarian more than familiar gesture, he couldn’t help but feel warmth run through him from being so close to another person, especially Edward who, if it were acceptable, would have loved to embrace.

\---

After getting everything settled at the inn, the pair of them bought sandwiches from the shop next door and then walked around town for a while, catching up on everything that had happened since their last letter, before heading out to an old field on a hill overlooking the city. Even though Thomas new the view wouldn’t do much for Edward, he though it a nice gesture and could still describe it for him. Plus, the spot had a nice breeze for a summer afternoon. Once there, Thomas found a nice spot near a tree and they both sat on the grass. 

“Edward, do you mind if I ask you something? I’ve been wondering about it since you got here.”

“Go ahead,” he replied, turning his head towards Thomas.

“Is it difficult for you? Being back here, I mean.”

Edward thought about the question for a moment, “No, not really. I think it might have been had I been able to see, but the sounds and the smells and even just the physical feeling of the place are so different now.”

Thomas hesitated a bit before asking the question he’d been more concerned about, “Is it difficult…meeting me…again?”

Edward hesitated some as well, “You know that I work at a veteran’s organization, so I’m never really too distant from the war. Some people come and never want to talk about it and some people come and just need to let everything out, so you have to be prepared either way when working there. When I first arrived, not to work but for their courses, I didn’t want to discuss it at all, but I suppose over the years I’ve come to accept the facts of the it all, more or less. I will say though that I have very rarely met someone I knew directly during the war, and that has always been more difficult. I suppose it’s just more direct and more personal.” Edward paused again, “I find it much easier than meeting someone who I knew before the war, however. I – I still find that…difficult. I didn’t die in the trenches but…the person I was before definitely did. That’s quite hard for people to understand…”

“I suppose it’s difficult to deal with someone’s death when the still appear to be standing right in front of you,” Thomas said softly.

“And does it bother you? Meeting me again?”

“It’s brought up some memories that I really would rather forget if I’m honest, but no, not really. I’m quite glad to have you here.”

Edward reached out then with his hand, his long fingers floating through the air. Thomas thought Edward appeared to be reaching out to him, but he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t willing to risk of taking his hand, not after just meeting him again and not after his precarious last few years. Edward’s hand eventually stopped searching and his arm fell lamely against his side, hand spread out on the grass. If Thomas were braver, he easily could have grabbed it, but instead he just pressed his lips together tightly. After a few minutes, Edward withdraw his hand entirely and tilted his face away and up towards the heat of the sun, a warm blush rising high on his cheeks. Thomas just watched him and felt his chest tighten.


	4. Chapter 4

They spent the rest of the evening together, getting dinner and a few drinks at the pub before walking around the village once more just to keep talking. Thomas made sure Edward new the way to the train station for his train the next morning, as Thomas would be working once more, and then they bid each other goodnight. Edward was already promising to come again at least once before the summer was out. Thomas wasn’t sure if this was all just niceties or if he should believe him, but he hoped Edward meant what he said. 

As Thomas walked home alone to the Abbey that night, he already found he missed the warmth of Edward’s hand above his elbow.

\---

The heat of the summer only proceeded to worsen from there. It was getting into records now and Thomas couldn’t have been less pleased. It was the kind of heat that kept you up at night and made you unable to eat. It put everyone on edge, too. One would think the heat would just make everyone lazy, and it did, but it also was so curdling that it kept anyone from actually resting and therefore made people careless with their words. Thomas was definitely not immune; he found himself having to hold his tongue more than usual around everyone both upstairs and down. It seemed the entirety of breakfast with the staff now consisted of people either glaring tiredly across the table or murmuring meek apologies to one another. 

He spent his nights writing at length to Edward with all his aches and complaints, and even though London was surely hotter than Downton would ever be, Edward was a more patient soul and would reply with more endearing views of his own life. Thomas learned all about the progress of the carrots and cucumbers in Regent’s Park and his progress in reading The Call of the Wild. According to Edward, reading about the arctic was the perfect remedy for the cloying heat of the city, but Thomas thought it would just further infuriate him if he tried. 

Thomas’ nights were also filled with fever dreams of a certain brown-haired man, and if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t even truly blame the heat. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Edward smiling up into the sunlight, his whole face glowing, seemed to be imprinted on his eyelids. It was such a different image of Edward than the previous one that had been in his head for all the years before. Thomas kept dreaming about what it would feel like to run his hands through that soft hair, to hold those long, thin fingers, to wrap his arms around those stately shoulders, or to kiss the line of freckles that ran across Edward’s nose. It was so blisteringly romantic that it shook Thomas. He was so used to his feelings getting mixed up in power or falsehoods and wasn’t used to everything feeling quite so sweet. Of course, Thomas wasn’t expecting that Edward was lying awake a train-ride away in London having similar thoughts, so maybe this was all falsehoods as well, but even if the romance came to nothing, Edward was already the most genuine friend Thomas seemed to have.

\---

To Thomas’ surprise, Edward kept his promise and invited himself over for two days in mid-August. Lady Mary was less pleased with Thomas taking a half-day “so soon” but Thomas was too hot to care and took it anyway. 

As soon as Edward stepped off the train and heard Thomas’ voice, his face turned up to the sun and broke out in a huge smile that crinkled up to his eyes in just the way Thomas had been picturing since June, and Thomas felt his heart lurch.

They decided to walk through the woods on the far side of the abbey in order to get some shade from the afternoon sun. The pair of them walked slowly through the wooded paths, as Thomas could tell Edward was having more trouble with the uneven ground compared to the roads in town. He kept stumbling slightly over the rocks and sticks, but he was still biting the corner of his lip in a kind of half smile, so Thomas continued leading them on.

They didn’t speak much at first. Something about the lack of breeze and the dappled light made Thomas feel the need to be quiet. Even the birds were rather quiet; the heat appeared to have affected everything. Thomas and Edward had both taken off their jackets and hats as soon as they reached the covering of the trees, but even then, Thomas felt sweat pricking at his forehead in the still air. After a while, they came across a small brook lazily meandering its way through the trees.

“Is there a stream nearby?” Edward stopped and tilted his head towards the sound of the water.

“Yes, it’s just a small one, but it leads to a larger pond if you follow it. I haven’t been there in a long time, though I used to go quite often when I had time off. It’s a nice place to escape away for a while.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Not terribly.”

“Let’s go then. I would die to cool off for a bit.”

“You mean take a swim?” Thomas asked, surprised.

“Why not, it’s hot enough isn’t it? And it’s not as if anyone else is around.”

Thomas felt rather reluctant, but Edward seemed so sure and was already beginning to walk towards the sound of the stream, “I’m not a good swimmer really.”

“Truly?” Edward turned towards Thomas with a funny look on his face, “You seem like quite a sports man.”

“Cricket sure, but I’d never be a champion swimmer.”

“Well it’s wonderful that I don’t plan on making this a race.” Edward chuckled.

\---

As soon as they reached the edge of the pond, Edward set down his cane, toed off his shoes, and walked forward carefully into the water. He stood there just ankle-deep for a few minutes, singing the cool water’s praises to Thomas the whole time, before getting out, stripping himself down to just his shorts, and then wading in again until the water reached his waist.

Thomas felt his face grown hot and his stomach tighten as he watched Edward. He felt like he was prying and tried to look away but found it hard not to keep his eyes from straying back in wonder. Edward had always had a kind of unique beauty in Thomas’ eyes, but standing there with the shadows of tree branches falling over his bare shoulders and the water rippling around his waist, he seemed almost divine.

“Are you going to join me? I don’t hear you moving.”

“I didn’t bring any spare clothes.” He knew it was a lame excuse, but he felt that he couldn’t get too near Edward without embarrassing himself now, not when the other man was so undressed.

“As if I did. Don’t tell me you’re shy. It’s not as if I can see you, you know,” Edward smirked playfully in his direction, “Or are you embarrassed because I’m just astonishingly handsome.”

Thomas choked on his own breath, “Something like that.”

“Like what,” Edward laughed, “You being shy or me being handsome?”

“Both I guess,” he replied and tried to sound like he was kidding.

“Well don’t be shy, and I’m not that good-looking, so get in.”

Thomas felt he couldn’t put it off any longer, and deep inside he knew he was dying to join Edward, so he stripped down to his shorts as well and stepped in the water. 

It was cool around his ankles and helped to calm him down a bit, but his momentary reverie was quickly interrupted as Edward reached for him through the air, his fingers finally landing on Thomas’ shoulder, sending sparks across his skin.

“Come on, I’m not going to let you drown,” Edward said softly, leading him deeper into the cool water. 

Once they were in the middle of the pond, Edward let go of him to dunk himself completely underwater, coming up for air with a scrunched-up grin and wet curls glinting with sunlight. He swam around lazily on his back for a while before just floating peacefully. Thomas could feel his heart opening up further and dunked his own head underwater to try and clear it, but when he emerged Edward was still looking like a god and his heart was still melting away like treacle.

Edward finally stood up and reached for him once more, “Do you know how to float?”

“No,” Thomas replied, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Take a deep breath, lay back, and spread your arms out wide,” Edward said as he planted his warm hand right between Thomas’ shoulder blades.

Thomas tried but immediately began to stiffen up and sink.

“Here, relax. Try it again. I’ve got you,” and he did, planting his other hand against the back of Thomas’ head, keeping it from going under.

Thomas took another deep breath and this time succeeded in staying above the surface. Even in the cool water though, the feeling of Edwards thin hands on his skin and in his hair seemed to set his whole body aflame. Thomas wondered if this is what it felt like to be burned at the stake, and if he were ashamed of his feelings he thought it would be appropriate to consider that while being held by a man, but he wasn’t ashamed.


	5. Chapter 5

After Edward’s last visit, fall came so swiftly that the ladies of the house hadn’t even thought about changing out their wardrobes yet. Thomas thought it was the first time in their lives that everyone was so grateful for the start of good, grey English weather, Thomas included. The only thing that made him feel queasy about it all was that it signaled the end of Edward’s ability to visit so freely. Veteran’s classes were starting in full-swing as fall arrived, and he would be needed at St. Dunstan’s.

With the summer haze gone, everyone’s heads seemed to clear, and the house began running smoothly again. Even then, Thomas found his mind still wandering to the green-eyed man he’d fallen in love with over the summer whenever he was alone. He tried not to think about it as love because that idea was still too hot to the touch, but he knew that’s what it was anyways. He’d known ever since that day in the pond when the feeling inside his chest grew so tight that it became impossible to ignore. He hadn’t been able to shake that feeling ever since either, and he couldn’t decide if it was giving him life or strangling him. He wasn’t sure at the moment if he cared. 

He didn’t let this sense of ache and longing show during the day, but at night he found he couldn’t stop it. He now longer spent his evenings reading the paper or playing a game of cards with Andy, instead he tended to just stare out the window, feeling sick with love, until the purple evening sky went black and then stare even more until he eyes began to grow heavy. He knew he must look like he’d truly lost his mind over the summer, sitting around like a helpless princess from an old novel, and he was sure everyone was wondering what could be wrong with him now, but for a while at least everyone had the grace not to mention it.

Finally, though, one evening Thomas looked up from his daze and saw that only he and Phyllis were left in the room. She seemed to notice this about the same time he did and looked up from the apron she was mending to send him a small smile across the room. He tried to smile back but guess he didn’t quite succeed because she set down her sewing, let out a deep breath, and made her way across the room to sit in the chair nearest to him.

“Thomas…you know you can speak to me if there’s anything ever bothering you,” her eyes held a look of deep worry, and after their history together, he couldn’t blame her.

“Yes,” he replied, unconvincingly and she pressed her lips together tightly.

“It’s just…you’ve been acting quite odd for about a month now.”

“Haven’t I always been a little odd?” he asked, feeling an old bitterness begin to rise inside of him.

“No,” she said firmly, placing a hand on his knee, “I don’t think so. I’m just worried.”

Thomas felt like there were suddenly too many feelings swirling around in his stomach, so he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to decide what he could tell her. “There isn’t anything actually…wrong, per se.”

“Forgive me if I don’t quite believe you.”

He opened his eyes and looked into hers once more, and seeing nothing but concern for him slowly continued, “It started out as something good, and I guess it still is, but…I don’t know.”

She didn’t say anything because he frankly hadn’t divulged anything, so after a moment he decided just to lay it out. She hadn’t judged him before, he reminded himself.

“I met someone, over the summer. Actually, I knew him years ago, but we met again.”

“And by meet, do you mean…?”

“No, I – I don’t know. Yes, I have…feelings, I suppose, for him, but I don’t know...”

“You don’t know about him,” she finished his thought for him, and he then remembered Mr. Mosley and realized that she would at least partly understand.

“I can’t risk it,” he said softly, and she didn’t protest this, just nodded solemnly.

“If there is anything I can do to help I will,” she said, “I really wish the best for you, Thomas, and I’m not the only one.”

He felt his throat tighten a bit at that. The two of them just stayed silent for a moment, her hand still on his knee, before she prompted him again. “Tell me about him?”

And so he did. He told her everything that had happened, about the war, their letters, and then this summer. He told her how he was feeling as well, and how frightened he was that Edward would find out but how equally frightened he was that he would spend the rest of his life with a hole in his chest. By the end, his hands were shaking from nerves and emotions, so Phyllis took them in hers.

“You know Her Ladyship was talking about having the family go down to London at the end of October. I’ll do my best to convince her that the trip should happen.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Thomas whispered.

“I want to,” she replied, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

\---

Thomas didn’t know how much of it was Ms. Baster’s doing, but he imagined some of it definitely was, because a month later they were in London and would be staying for two weeks. The first three days were such a windstorm of activity that Thomas could barely even make time for a smoke. Being so close the Edward yet not being able to see him was probably the cruelest thing yet, so on the fourth night, even though it was already dark out and the rest of the world would soon be going to bed, Thomas changed out of his uniform and made his way towards the door. He ran into Mrs. Hughes on the way and felt like he was sixteen again and trying to sneak out of the house, but she just told him to be careful and be ready for a busy day again in the morning.

As he made his way on to the street, he was hit immediately by the wind and the cold. leaves were skating their way down the sidewalks and he could see the misty rain glowing in the streetlamps. He knew Edward’s address by heart from all the letters and made his way there as quickly as possible, only stopping a few times to ask the way. Even then, by the time he reached his destination, his coat was damp and sparkling with rain. 

The building with Edward’s flat was old, with dark bricks and a heavy-looking door. He knocked on the front as Edward had told him too and was let in by a sleepy looking woman with curly hair streaked with grey.

“You must be Mr. Barrow,” she said, and he realized she must be Mrs. Lawrence, the woman who had been kind enough to read and transcribe the never-ending stream of letters between him and Edward. He found it suddenly unnerving to meet someone who knew so much about him but whom he had never met, but she looked at him kindly and knowingly, and he wondered what she knew.

“He’s not home right now. He went to the pub down the street and said if you came while he was out to meet him there.”

Thomas headed down the street in the direction she pointed and within two blocks found a pub. As soon as he walked in, he spotted a man in the corner playing the piano and next to him, Edward, sitting towards the end of the bar, talking to the bartender. Thomas waited for them to finish their conversation before going up to Edward and greeting him. Edward immediately grabbed Thomas’ arm and began to talk excitedly about all that had happened since their last letter. He kept his hand on Thomas throughout the whole conversation, and Thomas began to wonder if he was this tactile with everyone. Either way, Thomas felt all his anxiety and insecurity from the past weeks begin to melt down towards his toes, leaving his head clear. He felt himself smiling and laughing more freely that he had in a while and didn’t want their night together to end. It was already late though, and he knew he would need to be up again early as always in the morning, so after just a pint each, they put back on their coats and hats and stepped outside to be swept away by the wind. 

They had not quite made it to the next cross street when a gravelly voice slurred out from an alley, “Oi, it’s a pair a’ fuckin’ fairies.”

Thomas practically jumped out of his skin and his stomach completely dropped. He felt Edward tense beside him, his hand clenching tighter around Thomas’ arm.

When he spoke, though, his voice remained steady, albeit tight. “It’s just a drunk,” he said quietly, and then followed it up with, “I’m sure if you’re from the back and can’t see my cane, that’s what it looks like,” which only made Thomas’ stomach drop even further.

Thomas didn’t say anything. He felt like if he opened his mouth, he might just be sick, so he just quickened their pace as much as Edward was able, glad that the man behind them seemed too drunk to follow his words with any action.

As soon as they reached Edward’s building, he dropped Thomas’ arm to search for his keys. Thomas backed away some to pull out a smoke, hoping it would do something for the oppressing nausea that had overcame him. It was wet and windy, however, and his hands were shaking, so he couldn’t get a light.

Edward opened the front door with a low creak and stepped through the doorway. He didn’t hear Thomas follow him, though.

“Thomas?” his unfocused eyes looked out into the dark. Thomas didn’t answer though, it felt like his throat couldn’t move. “Thomas where’d you go?” When Thomas still hadn’t answered, Edward’s voice grew more concerned, “I can’t see you, you know, so this isn’t quite fair.”

“I’m over here,” he finally managed to choke out.

“Let’s go inside.”

When he still didn’t hear Thomas making any move to come with him, Edward stepped back out into the rain and felt his way along the wall until he reached him. He placed a hand on the small of his back and lead him, for a change, towards the door.

“Thomas, come inside. Don’t stand in the wind.”

\---

They made it up to Edward’s flat, and Thomas was immediately overcome by how much like Edward it was. It was small, comfortable, with just enough mess to look lived it, and Thomas felt the cold begin to seep out of his bones and Edward took his coat for him and hung it from the hook on the wall. There was a bed against one wall and a small dresser, desk, and chair against the other, only a few feet apart with the fireplace and rug in between. Thomas sat down in the desk chair as Edward quickly made a fire, giving a wavering orange light to the blue-hued darkness. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Thomas asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

“No,” Edward replied as he finished making the fire and sat down across from Thomas on the bed.

Thomas still struggled to get a light with his shaking hands and Edward must have heard because he reached his hand out into the middle of the room, “Let me help.”

Thomas handed him the lighter, but Edward just motioned with his hand again, “Cigarette?”

After being handed one by Thomas, he put it between his lips and lit it after a moment, leaving his face glimmering orange for from the flame. Once it was lit, he took it from his lips and handed it to Thomas to put in his. Something about the whole thing made Thomas want to cry, and he couldn’t really put to words why.

They sat in silence again, just listening to the drip of the rain and the sound of the wind rapping against the windows before Edward leaned forward and put his chin in his hand, “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

He seemed to be pondering something for a minute before continuing on, for the first time in the evening sounding actually rather nervous, “You know it wouldn’t…bother me. If you were - if you did….prefer the company of men.”

Thomas froze and didn’t say anything, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. That seemed to be confirmation enough for Edward, though, “Does it bother you?” he asked inquisitively, “Being that way I mean?”

It didn’t bother Thomas that he preferred men. He was quite self-assured in the aspect and had long ago convinced himself that it wasn’t a thing to be ashamed of. What bothered him was that he couldn’t ever have a future. Not in the way he wanted, at least. He was bothered by always having to put on an act to avoid the disgust, pity, or fear of others. It bothered him how exhausting it all was. He slowly told Edward all of this, trying to mask the quiver in his voice. It felt surreal to be talking about everything so openly. He didn’t think he’d ever discussed these things with another man, and it made him feel on edge and uneasy. He trusted Edward though in ways that he didn’t other people, plus he was just tired, so he decided to be open and just deal with the consequences.

Edward listened attentively though, and once Thomas was done talking, said thoughtfully, “In a way, that’s almost how I would describe my life now, after going blind,” and when Thomas thought about it, he could see the similarities.

“Does it bother you? Being blind?”

“I suppose sometimes things are just meant to be the way they are,” he replied after a time, and Thomas agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied/referenced suicide

They spent their time together in relative silence, both seeming to need time to ponder the night’s events and revelations. Eventually Thomas started to feel lulled by the fire and decided he’d better go if he was to sleep at all before morning. As he got up to leave, Edward got up, too and helped him into his coat. It was an odd experience, really; he was usually the one doing the helping, but he would never object to the feeling of Edward’s slim fingers smoothing his coat out over his shoulders. 

When he turned to leave out the door, Edward stopped him by putting his hands on both of Thomas’ arms. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then just shook his head, giving Thomas’ arms a quick squeeze and then letting go.

“I hope you’ll come ‘round again before you leave,” he said finally.

“I was planning to, as long as I won’t be a bother.”

“Of course not. You could honestly come every day and I’d be quite pleased.”

Thomas blushed at that and agreed to come again as soon as he could slip away.

Once out in the street again he was again taken away by the wind. It was unsettling being out and alone so late in a city that was usually so full of humanity. Now that it was past the witching hour, the streets held barely any life at all. The few people he did past looked more like shadows than humans, with their heads down and dark coats shimmering in the rain. The streetlamps had become halos in the mist, and he found himself walking slowly despite the weather. The whole night had been filled with such an extreme range of emotions, from deep anxiety to a shaky relief and a sense of tenderness that ran through everything, that his stomach was still tied up in knots and his head swirling from the downslide of adrenaline. 

When he finally made it back to his bed, he fell asleep immediately, and for the first time in months didn’t dream at all.

\---

Morning came quickly and Thomas found it to be very unwelcome. Oblivious to his exhaustion, the day ran as usual. It was only his fourth time leading the household in London, so while he was beginning to make his own rhythms, he still needed to be constantly alert for anything going awry. Luckily the morning went as smooth as any, even with him only getting a few hours of sleep, though he was relieved when he finally had a chance to sit down in the afternoon as he went over the wines for that night’s dinner. He left the door open to the pantry and happened to look up just as Phyllis was walking down the hallway, her arms full of linens for the laundry. She caught his eye and looked down the hall again before asking permission to enter.

She stood there awkwardly for a second after being invited in before quirking an eyebrow at him, “Well?” was all she asked.

“Well what?”

She sighed and pursed her lips, something he would admonish the younger staff for, but this was Phyllis, “Well have you seen him yet?”

“Yes,” she looked at him to continue, “last night actually.”

“And?”

“And what?”

She sighed again and rested the bundle of linens against the back of the chair in front of her, “Well did you have a nice time together? Was anything made any clearer?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t really sure that anything at all had been made clearer really, though Edward did now know about his romantic preferences, which he definitely had had no intentions of revealing, “I don’t know really. He knows now, about me. About my feelings…” he trailed off, eyeing the open pantry door.

Phyllis eyed it too and lowered her voice, “About him?”

“No, no I wouldn’t…be that up front, but he knows about my feelings for…” he gestured vaguely in the air.

“Oh, how did that come up?”

Thomas didn’t really want to talk about it, not with Phyllis especially, so he just didn’t say anything. The silence got uncomfortable quickly though, and Phyllis spoke up again, “And how did he react?”

“Not poorly. He was really rather kind… but things are often different in daylight…”

Phyllis seemed to consider that for a moment, “Maybe, but I think people are often more truthful in the dark,” she said, her eyes soft as she looked at him. He hoped she was right.

She was in the middle of asking, “Will you see him again?” when Mrs. Hughes came down the hall as well and saw the both of them in the pantry.

“See who again?” she asked, standing in the door with her hands on her hips.

Phyllis and he just stared at her, fumbling for words and Mrs. Hughes narrowed her eyes, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” the both replied, slightly too fast.

“Well then, Ms. Baxter, I hope you were planning on taking all those linens to the laundry and not leaving them to get along with the wine.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Hughes, I was just on my way there.”

Mrs. Hughes continued looking at Thomas in a funny way for a moment before saying, “I’m glad you have someone you truly feel you can talk to, Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas felt his face heat up, and he looked down at his hands before meeting Mrs. Hughes’ eyes again, “I – thank you,” and then added, “I’m glad as well.”

Mrs. Hughes just nodded at him and then took in a deep breath, “Well I hope we have all the wine we’ll need for dinner tonight. I suspect it’ll be a busy evening with Lady Rosamund here.”

“Ah, uh, yes,” Thomas said, sitting up and collecting himself, “It’s looking like everything is here.”

\---

Mrs. Hughes was right, as always. Dinner went longer than usual with Lady Rosamund there, and by the time he was free to do as he pleased with his night, it was already later than the night before. Once more he wasn’t able to slip out of the house without running into someone.

This time, it was Phyllis and Mr. Moseley who appeared just as he was putting on his overcoat, “Where are you off too this late, Mr. Barrow?” Mr. Moseley piped up.

“I don’t tend to pry into where you go when you’ve got time off Mr. Moseley.”

“Oh,” was all Mr. Moseley said in reply, looking rather taken aback. Phyllis gave him a look that immediately made him feel bad for being cross, so he finished putting on his coat and then huffed out a breath, he’d been in an odd mood all dinner, probably from the lack of sleep, but he didn’t want it to spiral out of his control “I’m going to visit an old friend,” he said apologetically and then stepped out into the city night.

Now more familiar with the way, he made it to Edward’s flat much more quickly than the night before and this time was pleased to be greeted by Edward himself when he knocked at the door.

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“No, don’t be. I’m glad you could come again so soon,” Edward said, ushering him inside with a small smile on his face, though he did look tired to Thomas, and Thomas felt bad. “Go ahead and get settled upstairs, I’ll just put some water to boil for tea.”

Edward headed down the hall to a small kitchen, his hand trailing along the wall to guide his way, and Thomas did as he was told, heading upstairs to Edward’s room. After shedding his coat and hat, he settled down in the same chair across from Edward’s bed and watched the fire flickering orange across the walls.

A few minutes later, Edward came back with a teapot in one hand and two teacups in the other. Thomas reached out and touched the back of Edward’s hand, letting him know where he was, and offered to take the cups, but Edward just leaned over him to set them down on the table. 

“You serve tea for a living. I think I can pour for you while you’re not at work.”

When Edward put it that way, it made his job sound rather ridiculous, but then the whole idea of service really is, isn’t it? He thought he should enjoy being served while it was being offered, so he conceded. 

Edward placed a finger on the rim of the cup while he poured so he would know when to stop, but after pouring the first glass hepaused, “Sorry, I suppose you’re not used to having someone else’s finger in your tea,” he laughed apologetically, “Some blokes can know when a glass is full just by listening, but I’ve yet to master it. All these years and I’ve never been able to do that without pouring tea all over.”

“It’s alright,” Thomas chuckled, “Luckily for you I’m not some prim and proper countess.”

They drank tea and talked about their respective days for a while but soon ran out of things to say, having just seen each other the day before. It was odd, really, getting to spend so much time together. They just sat in companionable silence for a while before Edward started tapping his fingers on the table. 

“I don’t mean to pry…” he trailed off, looking uncertain, “I mean, you’ve never mentioned it, which is why… but I’ve noticed that you’ve always got a glove on. I’ve felt it every time I’ve seen you.”

Thomas began fidgeting with the glove almost subconsciously as soon as Edward brought it up. He really hated talking about it, but he was finding that he hated keeping things from Edward even more. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say about it though. “Uh – well, yes. I always wear it. My hand was injured when I first met you.”

“I know, I remember,” he nodded but his face was still scrunched up, questioning, “Does it still bother you, or…?”

“Sometimes, but rarely now. It’s just rather unsightly. I think it would be in most any profession, but in service especially it would be quite shocking to have it so exposed, so I keep it covered.” The conversation was really starting to make him feel uncomfortable now, but it seemed like Edward still wasn’t fully satisfied with his answer. If it were anyone else, he would have put the conversation to rest immediately, but with Edward he just couldn’t seem to shut his mouth.

“Is it really that bad? After all this time?” 

Thomas looked at Edward’s face. You could definitely still see the spots around his eyes where the gas had burned him permanently, but they were no longer the angry red scars they had been when Thomas first met him. They had now faded into his skin and were nothing at all like the deep, splintering scar across Thomas’ hand.

“I think so,” Thomas finally replied, “I suppose it’s been so long since anyone else has seen it that maybe people wouldn’t actually think it’s as bad as I imagine they would, but I can’t stand looking at it. It’s too much of a reminder of...” he couldn’t make himself finish the sentence.

“Of war?”

“Yes – but more… more that I’m a coward…”

Edward immediately sat back in his chair and put his hand to his mouth, “What on earth do you mean?” he questioned, his voice suddenly very soft.

“I get myself shot on purpose. I held a lighter up and got myself shot,” his own voice sounded incredibly detached suddenly and he could feel himself losing his grip on what he was saying, “I just couldn’t take it anymore. After two bloody years of death and mud I just wanted out, but as soon as I did it, I realized that I was just leaving some other poor man to deal with it. I thought about letting myself get shot somewhere fatal, but I couldn’t even make myself do that.”

“Don’t-“ Edward cut him off, his voice sharp, “Don’t you dare say that.” Edward’s hands were gripping the edge of the table sharply as he spoke, “I don’t think trying to escape that hideous, barbaric place is cowardly at all.” Edward stopped then, opening his mouth a few times to speak but each time stopping himself. “That was the last thing I saw, you know. Just that, death and mud. In my whole life, and that was it. That’s been the one thing I don’t think I’ll ever be over.” He stopped again, sounding strained, “All the people and places that I loved before have become sort of muddled in my brain. It’s like always being in a dream; as soon as I try to concentrate on what they looked like, they all fade away, but that never has. It’s still as clear as ever in my mind. I wouldn’t call anyone a coward for wanting to get rid of that.”

Thomas sat stunned. He felt like he couldn’t move, but he still felt like he needed to explain, “It’s not just that, though. It’s my whole life before and after. I’ve never been able to deal with it and yet never able to make it easier on myself either. I feel like my whole life has been poisoned by cowardice.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I tried to kill myself, Edward.”

Edward’s face immediately drained into a horrific shade of white, and he recoiled back as though he’d been burned.

“I slit my wrists, a few years back. I just couldn’t…” his voice had finally started to shake, and when Edward spoke, his had too.

“Then what does that make me.”

Thomas felt like his stomach had dropped out of him, “You’re not – “

“It’s no different.”

A thick silence fell between them and Thomas felt his body pulsating with shame and anxiety. He felt his blood turning sour as well with anger that Edward had ever started this conversation, but inside he knew that he was angrier at himself.

“I – I need a moment,” Edward finally stood up, shakily, and left the room. Thomas could hear his footsteps retreating down the stairs.

As soon as Edward left, Thomas felt a flood of guilt rush through him. He spent a few minutes just staring down at his hands, reliving the conversation over, and he felt like he had just destroyed everything they had created over the past few months. In the back of his mind, he knew that this conversation was going to come at some point. Their experiences were far too similar for it not to, but he felt sick at the way he had handled it. 

He made himself take a few deep breaths, helping to steady his racing heart, and then he focused his attention on the clock on the wall, making himself count the ticks in his head for something else to concentrate on. He smoked a few cigarettes as well, which made him feel a little more normal, and after about twenty minutes, he gathered himself together and made his way downstairs.

\---

The kitchen was dark, lit only by the strange light from the streetlamps outside, but he could see Edward clearly. He was sitting up on the windowsill, one long leg bent up against the window and the other dangling down, his toes just scraping the floor. Edward didn’t say anything as Thomas walked in, he didn’t even move at first. His eyes were wide open, and his cheek was pressed to the glass; Thomas felt his stomach lurch again when he saw that his cheeks were damp.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas finally said, and he meant it. Edward just closed his eyes and nodded.

Thomas leaned up against the wall next to the window, arms tucked across his chest, “I’m not used to talking about all that.”

“I wish I could have been there…before you…you know,” Edward said quietly.

Thomas sighed, “I don’t know how much of a difference it would have made, I was so closed off from everything.”

“And now?”

“Something about people scrubbing your blood out of a bathtub really connects you to them.” Edward flinched, his face contorting again, and Thomas would have done anything to drag those words back in. He couldn’t seem to get himself back under control, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was – that was horrible.”

“It – it was.”

“I’ve been trying. To connect, to reach out, I mean. I’ve been doing so much better, truly, but in moments like this, I feel…frighteningly like my old self.”

Edward stayed still for another moment before finally replying, “That I can understand,” and then softer, “I understand it all really…” and of course he would, because their experiences were practically mirrors of each other, “I just never expected it, not from you. I feel really quite overwhelmed.” Thomas understood; the irony and sting of it all had been really too much the whole time, though until that moment only Thomas had been feeling it, and he had had a lot more time.

All of the last anger and adrenaline had finally seeped out of their conversation, leaving them both exhausted; Thomas could see Edward beginning to shiver, pressed up against the cold glass.

“Why don’t we go back upstairs? It’ll be warmer,” he asked, and Edward nodded tiredly.

\---

Once back upstairs, they sat again in their usual places, facing one another.

“Can I see your hands?” Edward broke the silence, and then immediately seemed to reconsider “You can say no.”

“No, it’s alright,” Thomas replied, already unbuttoning his cuffs, “I think I’d actually feel better if you just knew what they’re like.” He felt rather exposed as soon as he pushed up his sleeves and took off his glove, but then Edward pushed up his own sleeves and held out both of his hands, palms facing upward.

He had seen Edward’s scars before from that day in the summer when they had swum at the pond, but it was different now, Edward was wanting him to see. He carefully placed the backs of his own hands into Edward’s and then looked down at them. As he looked at their four pale wrists with four long scars, he felt his throat constrict and tears prick at his eyes. He didn’t want to cry though, not now, so he breathed in sharply through his nose and closed his eyes.

Edward first ran his fingers over the scar on Thomas’ bad hand, holding it in both of his to feel along the back and the palm, before reaching back and taking both of his hands once more, dragging his thumbs along the scars on his wrists. It was probably one of the most intimate moments of Thomas’ life, but he wished it could have been for any other reason.

After a few minutes Edward clasped both of Thomas’ hands tightly in his own, “I want you to know,” he stopped, shaking his head as his voice cracked, “I want you to know that I am very, very glad you’re alive.”


	7. Chapter 7

It had now been about two days since Thomas had had any real sleep, and he knew it was beginning to show. He didn’t let the quality of work falter at all, as he knew it would do neither him nor Edward any good if he got himself in trouble with the Crawley’s, but he knew he was going to have to restrain himself from going to visit Edward that night. It was probably good as well, after their last visit, his emotions were still running high, and he didn’t feel like he could trust himself not to spill his whole heart out to the man if he saw him right then. He knew he was really caught out when he was passing by the nursery in the evening and two little heads popped out from behind the door to greet him.

“Mr. Barrow!” Master George jumped excitedly out from behind the door and Thomas picked him up. He was soon going to be too big to carry, so Thomas was taking every opportunity he got to fly the boy around the hallways.

“Good evening Master George, Miss Sybil,” Thomas said fondly, giving the grinning young Sybbie a pat on the head as well.

“Mr. Barrow, you look awfully funny today!” Sybbie exclaimed, standing up on her tip toes to try and get a better look.

“Do I?”

“Yes! Your eyes are all purple!” Thomas cringed a bit at that, because if Miss Sybil could see that he hadn’t slept in two days, then everyone else definitely could.

“I’m just a bit tired is all.”

“Why didn’t you take a nap?” George asked, ever the reasonable one.

“Well, I’ve had to work. It can be hard to find time to nap when you’re older.”

“I can’t wait until I’m an adult then,” Sybbie said, putting her hands on her hips, “I hate when Nanny makes us rest. It’s so boring and we’re not even allowed to talk.”

“Well Miss Sybil, I’d be happy to trade. I would quite like to have a rest every afternoon.”

“Why are so you tired, anyways, Mr. Barrow. Mummy said coming to London is like a holiday.”

“I suppose it is. I was just out a bit late visiting a friend.”

“But aren’t we your friends, Mr. Barrow?” George cried out.

“Of course you are, but I’m visiting you now aren’t I?”

“You didn’t visit us yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t, but I see you every day when we’re at Downton. I don’t get to see my other friend very often at all.”

“Couldn’t your friend come here?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s alright,” Thomas said, not want to say even the slightest thing that could make anyone in the house suspicious. Although he knew that Lord Grantham and to some extent Lady Mary were aware of his persuasions, he didn’t fool himself into thinking they were supportive of him. Everything had always just been swept under the rug, but if it was ever pulled out in the open, especially around the children, he was quite sure his time with the children, and probably time as butler, would be cut short. “How about we go ask Nanny if we can have a few minutes to read a story together before the two of you are off to bed?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, yes! Aunt Rosamund gave us many new books to choose from!” Sybbie exclaimed, already running back into the nursery to ask Nanny, George scrambling down from Thomas’ arms to follow her.

\---

As he had promised himself, Thomas didn’t go out that night. Instead, he stayed in with a cup of tea and caught up on filling in the books from the past few days. Quite a few of the other staff members had gone out into the city, though, so it was a fairly quiet night downstairs.

Not long after he had sat down to work over the numbers, Mrs. Hughes stopped in with a plate of tea biscuits, “Mrs. Patmore has a whole batch of them left over in the kitchen. She didn’t want me to have them, saying she was saving them the staff’s tea tomorrow, but I nicked a few anyways.” Mrs. Hughes set the plate down on top of the ledgers so that Thomas had no choice but to stop working and talk with her, “I’m glad to see you’re staying in tonight as well. I was worried I was going to have to tell you off for staying out too late,” Mrs. Hughes chuckled, “It’d be just like old times.” She was right about that, when he’d first come to London with the household after joining the staff Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson both had spent an unreasonable amount of time telling him off for sneaking out about every night and coming back having had just a few pints too many. It always surprised him that he ever made it past those early years still having a job.

“As much as I would like to go out, Mrs. Hughes, I’m not quite so young and energetic anymore. I think I’d fall over at breakfast if I went out another time. Plus, Miss Sybbie told me this evening that I look funny because my eyes are all purple, so I think that’s a sign.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” Mrs. Hughes gave him a look as she sipped her tea, “You could invite him here you know, it might make things a bit easier.”

She said it so casually and yet Thomas could feel his mouth hanging open. It was like she and Sybbie were suddenly colluding with one another.

“Assuming there is a ‘he’ that is,” Mrs. Hughes continued, but by the sparkle in her eyes Thomas could tell she knew there was. Though when he really thought about it, there was only a ‘he’ to him. As much as he may dream about it, he wouldn’t spend his time fooling himself into believing that Edward felt anything towards him.

“I – well – I’ve just been visiting a friend.”

Mrs. Hughes pursed her lips at that, “Truly?”

“Yes.”

If he wasn’t fooling himself, she looked rather disappointed, but then carried on, “Then all the more reason to invite him,” and yet it really wasn’t, because as Thomas had proved to himself over the last two days, he couldn’t be trusted at all around Edward.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, the offer always stands. I don’t imagine anyone upstairs would either know nor mind if their butler had a close friend over for dinner or tea.”

It was a nice thought, but Thomas didn’t say anything more. He finished off the plate of biscuits with Mrs. Hughes before heading to bed and dreaming once more of that tall, sea-eyed man.

\---

The rest of the Crawley’s visit to London was filled with dinner banquets and evening parties, so he was only able to escape once more to see Edward. He did not follow Mrs. Hughes’ advice, and instead went out once more to the other man’s flat. He was feeling quite nervous at the thought of seeing Edward again after their last night together and was planning on inviting him out for a walk around the city or a park in he hopes of giving them something distracting to do. However, when he left it was pouring rain so heavily that on some parts of the street the puddles ran so swift and deep that they reached over the tops of his shoes and soaked his feet.

Instead, he bought a newspaper on the way and spent the evening reading it to Edward. It was slightly uncomfortable at first. They didn’t seem to know what to say to each other, but as soon as Thomas suggested reading him the news, Edward smiled kindly and they sat together at the kitchen table. Edward looked relaxed, resting his head in his hand as he listened, and it was so unbearably domestic that Thomas felt he couldn’t concentrate at all on reading. He kept skipping over lines and losing his place, but Edward just kept chuckling at him and telling him to continue.

He was able to meet Mrs. Lawrence more properly as well. She came in to the kitchen while they were there to make herself some tea and thoroughly fussed over Thomas for his wet hair and wet shoes. She reminded him a lot of Mrs. Hughes, though with not as much cheek and less of a Scottish flair, and he was glad that Edward had someone like her to keep an eye on him; he knew he himself needed that for sure. The three of them chatted for a while, and it was nice to get to know better the person who was putting Edward’s words to paper, though it was odd as well because he felt like he was just meeting her, and yet she knew so much about his life and work. 

After she finished her tea, she left the pair of them alone once more and Edward couldn’t stop smirking behind his hand, “Well weren’t you a gentleman.”

Thomas laughed, “What? Am I not usually?”

Edward shrugged good-naturedly, “Of course, she just seemed – ever so charmed by you.”

Thomas literally had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out, “As I am by you.”

\---

They said their goodbyes later that night. They just shook hands, which after everything felt rather empty, but Thomas couldn’t think of anything else that would be appropriate.

As he headed home, he realized they hadn’t made any mention of meeting again. That was perfectly reasonable, and it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t, in fact at this point he was fairly certain they would, but it made his chest tight and stomach queasy all through the next day.

\---

Everything at Downton went back to normal as soon as they got back, except that Thomas didn’t hear anything from Edward. He didn’t let it worry him at first, they had just seen each other and there wasn’t really anything new to say, but when he sent him a letter and Edward still didn’t reply, a funny feeling settled deep in his chest and wouldn’t budge no matter how much Thomas tried not to concentrate on the whole thing. 

At four weeks, Thomas was starting to lose sleep over it, so he sent another letter. He still didn’t want to think about it too much, or he’d drive himself absolutely mad, but he had been hurt so many times before that he began to feel that old and ever-familiar sense of dread. 

The next Monday the telephone in his office rang at just around ten in the evening, which pretty much excluded it from being a business call. He wasn’t aware of anyone expecting a personal call either, so picking it up his heartrate increased very suddenly, expecting an emergency of some kind.

“You’ve reached Downton Abbey, this is Mr. Thomas Barrow, the butler speaking.”

“Ah Thomas, it’s Edward – I apologize for calling so late.”

Thomas nearly dropped the receiver. He definitely had not been expecting that. Though he was extremely relieved that there wasn’t any disastrous news on the other line about the household or one of its members, he rather feared the disastrous news was coming his way.

“It’s quite alright,” he didn’t know what else to say.

“I did receive your letters,” Edward said and maybe it was just the distortion of the telephone, but Thomas swore that Edward sounded uncharacteristically nervous, “I apologize for not replying.”

Thomas just hummed into the receiver, still not knowing quite where this conversation was headed.

“I was wondering if there is any time in the near future when it might be alright for me to come to Downton.”

He had definitely not been expecting that either. He fumbled around a bit in his surprise, but he already knew the answer. The family would be headed to Scotland for four days in two weeks. Being both a short visit and so close to Christmas, only the Bates’, Ms. Baxter, Andy, and Daisy would be going with them, the rest of the staff would stay behind to complete all the necessary repairs and plans before the holiday season. While it was by no means a holiday for the staff left behind a Downton, without the family to look after, he would have much more control of how he scheduled his time.

“You could come two Fridays from now; the family will be gone for the weekend.”

“Wonderful, I’ll plan to see you then,” and then he hung up the phone, still leaving Thomas with no idea where they stood.

\---

They hadn’t communicated at all since the phone call, so when that Friday arrived, Thomas had no idea what time Edward would be arriving or if he would be arriving at all. He didn’t have time to sit at the train station all day, though, and so he just hoped Edward would be fine in figuring things out. He at least knew his way to the inn by now and once there could make a call if needed, but Thomas still felt unsettled all morning. 

The house was quiet at least, which he found comforting. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore had both gone to Ripon to run errands in preparation for the holidays, and he had sent all the hall boys to do a thorough cleaning of all main rooms upstairs, so it was just him downstairs in his pantry working through a list of all the parts of the house that would need to be repaired before the family got back.   
At around half-past one, the bell on the back door rang, shocking Thomas from his silent work. The only person he was expecting was Edward, and on his way to answer it, he felt his insides twist up, unprepared and unsure of what this visit would hold.

It indeed was Edward at the door, a young boy standing beside him. As soon as Thomas opened the door, Edward handed him a few coins, and the boy tipped his hat and set of running back down the driveway.

“Hello Edward, it’s me, Thomas,” he reached out and put his hand on Edward’s shoulder guiding him inside, “I’m glad you found your way here.”

“Yes, the innkeeper was kind enough to send his son down here with me,” once inside, Edward seemed unsure of himself, taking off his hat and fiddling with it in his hands. It only served to make Thomas more nervous, Edward was usually the more put together of the pair.

“Here, let me take your coat,” he said while slipping it off Edward’s shoulders and taking his hat from his hands. They then both just stood there again, so Thomas took the lead once more, “Why don’t you come sit down, I’ll make us some tea,” and lead Edward into the pantry to sit across from his desk, “I’ll just be a minute.”

He was glad to have something to do to distract him for a few minutes and maybe give him a moment to think of what to say. He wanted to be annoyed at Edward for his sudden lack of communication, but the other man was acting so strangely out of character that Thomas just felt more confused than anything.

When they were finally were settled in with tea, Edward saved him by starting the conversation, “How have you been? I got your letters but…I’d rather hear from you in person.”

Thomas resisted the urge to ask why he hadn’t replied and instead filled Edward in on all the mundane things that had happened since London. When he asked Edward in return how he was, however, he just replied, “I’ve been alright, I suppose,” and tapped his fingers against the rim of his teacup, and that was it.

Thomas finished his tea silently, just watching Edward. He was finally about to offer to go find them some biscuits or something else to eat when Edward cleared his throat and looked up, “Would you care to get some fresh air? I know you have work to do but…”

“Of course, let’s go,” he did have work to do and the weather wasn’t very pleasant this time of year, but he was relieved that Edward had suggested something, “We can walk around the grounds for a while, if you like.”

Thomas washed their teacups quickly and then began putting on his coat and gloves when Edward stopped him, “This will seem rather odd… but would we be able to go on the roof?”

Thomas did find it an odd request but not necessarily a bad one, only, “It isn’t really allowed.”

“By who?” and when Thomas thought about it, it wasn’t his Lordship that hadn’t allowed it, though he probably wouldn’t be incredibly pleased, but it was always Mr. Carson that had forbidden it.

“Well – I guess it was the old butler.”

For the first time since arriving, Edward cracked a real smile at him and laughed, “But you’re the butler now.”

“Indeed.”

“We don’t have to go. I just thought of it because growing up, I would always go sit on the roof. I found it very calming oddly enough to be up so high and alone.

“Let’s go then.”

\---

Thomas was sure that at any other point in the year, the view from the roof would be terrific. You could see across the whole grounds of the abbey and even see the buildings of town off in the distance, but right then the sky was a dreary shade of gray and all the trees were standing dark and bare. The wind was strong too, making him tuck deeper into his coat. He led the two of them to stand against one of the towers so that they would be more blocked from the wind.

Edward did seem calmer as soon as they got up, making Thomas glad he had taken him up on the suggestion. “Is it a nice view?’

“Not really, at least not in December.”

“Hmm, I’ll just have to pretend that it is then.”

They were quiet again for a while, just standing up against the old tower listening to the wind, but it was a more comfortable silence now, the kind he was used to having with Edward. Thomas decided to have a smoke to pass the time, and when he stamped out his cigarette, Edward turned to him.

“Thomas?”

“Yes.”

Edward reached out his hand, and this time they were close enough that it landed on Thomas’ stomach, he quickly skated it up so that it was resting against his upper arm, “I’ve been thinking, for a while now actually, that I’ve got absolutely no idea what you look like.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak but wasn’t sure what to say, he hadn’t really considered it before. “Um, well… I’ve got black hair and light eyes and… I’m terribly pale.”

Edward smiled at him, “That’s… really not very descriptive.” Edward withdrew his hand and began taking his gloves off. Thomas could see a slight tremble in them as he did so, but he told himself it must be the cold. “Would you mind if I…?” his hand hovered in midair between them but didn’t move at all towards Thomas, waiting for him to reply. 

Thomas understood Edward’s meaning immediately and he suddenly could hear his heart pounding quickly in his ears, “I – yes, you can.”

Edward inched his hand closer but then stopped again, huffing out softly, “Sorry, I’d rather not poke you in the eye.” 

Thomas reached out with his still-gloved hand and took Edward’s. He moved it slowly until his fingertips rested just below his cheekbone. Edward’s fingers were cold, but they were still warmer than his wind-chilled cheeks, and it made his breath catch in his throat as soon as they rested against his face. 

Edward had on a look of deep concentration as he began to trace his fingers across Thomas’ features. He was taking his time, moving his fingers slowly, and Thomas felt like he was going to faint. He closed his eyes to try and ground himself, but it only made the feeling worse. His breathing already was shallow, but then Edward’s fingers moved across his lips and he gasped in a breath, not able to let it out.

Edward stopped, his fingers on his jawbone, “You can breathe,” he whispered, but Thomas just nodded.

He moved his fingers along Thomas’ jaw until they rested on the pulse point on his neck and then stopped. They just stood like that for a while, Thomas light-headed with his eyes closed and Edward counting his heartbeats. Thomas didn’t think he had ever felt this way in his life, like he was dreaming and dying simultaneously. He felt Edward take a step closer to him, close enough that he could feel his breath against his cheek. His hand then fell from its place on his neck to rest atop his shoulder and Thomas felt him lean forward and ever-so-softly place his lips where his fingers had just been touching his heart.

Thomas didn’t move at all, standing like a statue and unable to breathe, until Edward pressed his lips to his neck again, and Thomas finally gasped in a breath, making a sound in his throat that he couldn’t control. Edward moved back, moving his hand so that his fingers were once more skating over his lips. 

And then Edward’s lips were pressing softly against his and though he still didn’t quite understand, didn’t quite believe, he couldn’t help but kiss him back. Thomas moved so that one hand was on Edward’s waist and the other threaded through the hair at the back of his neck, making the other man shiver and move closer. Edward had his hand trapped between them, pressed against Thomas’ heart as they continued to kiss, in a way that was so tender and wanting it sent chills through Thomas’ whole body. 

When they finally pulled a part, Edward just rested his forehead against Thomas’ shoulder, still wrapped up in the other man’s arms. Thomas could feel that both of them were trembling from being cold and nervous and overwhelmed and, at least for him, undeniably in love. 

They stayed that way for a while, just holding each other without saying a word, but eventually it got to where Thomas couldn’t feel his hands or his feet anymore from the blistering gusts of wind. He ran his fingers up the back of Edward’s neck into his hair once more and then nudged his head up from his shoulder. He looked at him in complete wonder for another minute before pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth and whispering, “Come inside with me, let’s not stand in the wind.”


	8. Chapter 8

As they made their way back down the stairs from the rooftop, Edward’s hand resting on Thomas’ shoulder, following him down, Thomas began to come to his senses once again. Even though it took them longer, he led them down one of the lesser used hallways for as long as he could. Regardless of his higher status as butler, he didn’t have a single good excuse for why he was leading a blind stranger down from the roof of Downton Abbey if one of the hall boys saw them. 

By the grace of some god Thomas didn’t believe in, they made it all the way down to the butler’s pantry without anyone noticing. Once there, he led Edward to a chair and told him he would be back in just a minute, before sprinting back up the stairs to check on the progress of the upstairs cleaning and give the boys a new list of tasks to complete. He felt a little bad for giving them so many things to do just to give Edward and him a little more time, but the tasks would need to be completed at some point anyways. Furthermore, he had been in their positions before and it hadn’t been the death of him.

Upon entering the pantry once more, Edward lifted his chin swiftly from his hand, seeming to shake himself out of some reverie. “It’s just me,” Thomas said softly, not meaning to have surprised him.

Edward nodded but didn’t say anything. His face was back to looking as cool and confident as ever, but he wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands. For having been truly wrecked just before, Thomas found that he suddenly was thinking with surprising clarity, and as he leaned up against the door and watched the other man, his mind began to work the pieces together like the cogs of his father’s old clocks.

“That’s why you didn’t write,” it was meant to be a question, but it didn’t come out that way. He at least hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Yes.” Thomas wasn’t sure at first it he meant to elaborate, but eventually Edward took in a deep breath, “I do apologize, I should have replied, but it’s not just that. There were so many times when I could have – should have told you but I – I don’t know. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t put any of it in to words.”

“I don’t need you to apologize, Edward. I don’t want you to either. I just…” he did both need and want clarification, before he was going to take whatever they now had between them any further. He felt as though he had been through quite enough heartbreak and close calls for a lifetime, “I – well, forgive me, but… I think it might help if you could try and put it into words now.”

Edward ran his hand through his hair until it was sticking up wild in all directions, “I can try,” he said, pressing his lips together hard before continuing, “I have always felt…something… for you, Thomas. Even when we first met, you were also so honest and open with me it was striking. It was only when we saw each other again this summer that I realized my feelings towards you had become something… more. Even that first day, when you took me up on that hill I -,” Edward shook his head, not completing that sentence, “I won’t lie, I’ve felt things towards men before, but I always told myself it was just because we were in school together or fighting together and that was it, and, I’ve always felt things for women as well, so it was easy to tell that to myself. I spent so long convinced like everyone else that it was something to be ashamed of and disgusted by that I just never let myself think about it for the longest time.” Edward stopped again, hands still raking through his hair.

“And what do you think now?” Thomas asked, heart pounding against his ribs.

“Part of that still lingers… I think it might always, but I meant what I said to you in London. The government and all the doctors and everyone say it’s some terrible sickness in the head, but I don’t think you’re sick. I don’t think I’m sick, and if I am then so be it, honestly. After the war I spent so much time hating myself, and I was so miserable and exhausted that when I finally got myself out of that state, I knew I just had to take things as they are, and this is how things are. Government, god, and society be damned, I like you Thomas, and frankly I’m now just overwhelmed that you seem to like me back.”

“You could have said – when we were in London,” Thomas could hear his own voice tight in his throat.

“I know, I know, and I knew then, too, because as soon as you said that you preferred men, I knew you would perfectly understand, but I couldn’t make myself say the words. I’ve never said any of this aloud before, Thomas.”

Thomas felt his chest clench at that, understanding all too well how difficult a thing it is to say. He moved away from the door to lean against his desk instead, pulling Edward’s hand from his hair and clasping it in his own, running his thumb softly across the back of Edward’s fingers, “I’m quite overwhelmed that you like me too, you know. Just because you’ve felt things towards men in the past doesn’t mean you’d feel them for me. Truly I find it… unbelievable. I’ve been in quite over my head since the start.”

Edward shook his head, squeezing Thomas’ hand tightly, “I’ve wanted to tell you so badly. As soon as you left London, I realized how strongly I wanted you to stay. Every time I sat down to think about what to write you, it was all I could think about saying. I couldn’t very well put that in a letter though, nor could I ever say that aloud for Mrs. Lawrence to write down, and if I’m honest, I was rather terrified of telling you.”

“What would you have said, had you written.” 

“That I wanted to kiss you,” he answered, his voice so utterly firm and sincere despite the blush rising high on his cheeks.

“And now that you have?” Thomas was sure Edward could feel his racing pulse through their clasped hands.

“That I would very much like to do it again.”

Thomas didn’t hesitate then, leaning down to close the gap between them, shivering when Edward’s mouth opened to him immediately. Their kiss built slowly between them, but it wasn’t long before Thomas felt as though his whole being was humming with it. As the clock chimed in the corner, though, Thomas finally pulled back, resting his forehead against Edward’s.

“I could kiss you forever,” he said, his voice sounding terribly heady to his own ears.

“But you’ve got to work,” Edward nodded against him, finishing Thomas’ thoughts for him.

“I’m afraid so. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore will be back from Ripon soon and I think we might need a moment to pull ourselves together,” Thomas replied, a soft smile on his lips.

Edward chuckled but didn’t pull away, rather he moved closer and rested his head against Thomas’ heart, skating his fingers across the skin of Thomas’ neck just below his collar, making the other man shudder. 

“Damn you for being sensible,” he smiled into Thomas’ chest, and Thomas found himself then laughing breathlessly into Edward’s now fly-away hair, because no one in his entire life had ever accused him of being sensible.

\---

They did finally manage to pull themselves together, however difficult they may have found it. Mrs. Hughes and Patmore still hadn’t arrived back to the house yet, so Thomas led Edward to a chair by the fire and turned on the gramophone for him so that he wouldn’t just be sitting there with nothing to do. Thomas then went back upstairs to check over the progress of the hall boys before dismissing them for dinner. It took long enough, going over everything, that by the time he made his way back downstairs, Mrs. Hughes was already in her office, sorting the packages she brought back from Ripon. As soon as she saw him, she motioned him into the room and shut the door.

“Mr. Barrow, there’s a Mr. Edward Courtenay who’s come to visit.”

“Yes.”

“He says he’s a friend of yours.”

“Yes.”

“He also said he’s from London.”

“Yes.”

After seeming to get all the confirmation she needed, Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows at him and pointed him with a look, “Am I right in assuming then that you took my advice and invited you’re London friend here?”

“I, well – yes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Silly child, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded. I only mind that you weren’t there to introduce us and I had to figure out he was all on my own,” she was still giving him that same direct look, but her eyes had become so soft now that he couldn’t keep looking at them for fear he’d melt.

\---

Thomas led a proper introduction between Mrs. Hughes and Edward, though it was all back to Mr. Courtenay and Mr. Barrow now for them. Mrs. Hughes was making a valiant effort not to be flustered by the fact that Edward was blind, and Thomas was pleased. Dinner, however, went about as he suspected, which meant it was another matter entirely. 

As soon as Mrs. Patmore met Edward, she began retelling her own tale of going blind and then regaining her sight again. It had been so long ago that Thomas actually hadn’t even thought about it truly in years, and while he appreciated that Mrs. Patmore was just trying to connect with their guest in her own way, he had to bite his cheek not to spit out some horribly snarky remark when Mrs. Patmore finally got around to actually serving Edward his share, saying, “You never know, miracles can happen Mr. Courtenay.”

Ever the more graceful one, Edward just replied simply, “Thank you, though I’m afraid in this case, miracles aren’t for me.”

Thomas didn’t have it in himself to control his tongue when it came to the younger members of the staff, however. The hall boys had been staring and whispering amongst themselves for the whole first portion of dinner, and Thomas finally had had enough of it when of the youngest boys pointed right at Edward and then whispered into the ear of the lad next to him.

“Robbie, would you like to inform us all what is so interesting about our guest, Mr. Courtenay, that you feel the need to point fingers across the table.”

Robbie’s head shot up and he looked at Thomas like a fish caught too long out of water, “Er, uh… it’s nothing, Mr. Barrow.”

“I can return the favor if you like, stare at you all dinner. I’m sure I could find plenty of interesting features to point out if I look at you long enough.” Edward’s face was bright red by this point too, and Thomas wondered for a second if he had made the wrong move, but then Edward let out a laugh, immediately covering it with his hand and pretending to cough.

“No, Mr. Barrow. I apologize,” Robbie quickly replied, turning his full attention to finishing the contents of his soup as fast as possible, face burning.

Conversation was rather stilted around the table after that, and the mood never really improved. It was only after, when Mrs. Hughes brought Thomas and Edward some tea and left-over biscuits, that Thomas felt himself lighten up again. Seeming more comfortable now that it was just the three of them, Edward was back to his usual charming self, making easy conversation and smiling often. Mrs. Hughes couldn’t seem to stop herself from doting on the man, and the more he charmed, the more she doted. By the end of their conversation, Mrs. Hughes was patting Edward’s hand where it lay on the table, and his grin was absolutely sparking. Thomas didn’t feel the need to say much as they sat there, instead just watching the two of them interact, a warm feeling clenching at his heart. When they finally finished the pot of tea on the table, Mrs. Hughes sighed and declared that she’d better return home, but not before squeezing Edward’s hand, patting Thomas’ shoulder, and telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

\---

The sky was purple as he walked with Edward back to the inn. Edward was holding him closer than usual, his whole arm, not just his hand, wrapped around Thomas’ own as his cane tapped out in front of them. Had it been daylight, he would have worried about it, but now in the dark, Thomas just stepped closer himself, feeling the warm of the other man all along his side.

“Thomas?”

“Edward.” 

Edward didn’t turn his face towards Thomas, his voice just floating out into the night as a blush shone high on his cheeks, “I wanted to ask you, after today, what you would like from this, from us. I’ve thought quite a lot about what I want, but I want to hear from you.”

“What is it that you want?” Thomas couldn’t help the nervous pace of his heart at that question.

“No, I asked you first.”

Thomas didn’t reply for a while, trying to think of how to put everything he wanted into words without putting his whole heart out on his sleeve this early, “I suppose I want us to be… together.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I’d like us to be together, romantically. I don’t want this just to be temporary.”

Edward nodded but didn’t reply, so Thomas prompted him once more, “What is it that you want, Edward?”

“The best word I can think of is that I’d like you to be my paramour.”

Thomas’ breath caught at that; he couldn’t help it. “That sounds awfully… salacious.”

“Hmm, I quite disagree, but no matter,” he seemed to think for a while again before speaking, “My beloved then, I would like you to be my beloved, Thomas.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual content

Thomas waited outside the inn for a while, having a smoke, so that it wouldn’t look suspicious with them both going up to Edward’s room together. He wasn’t sure what Edward expected or wanted from the evening, but he had invited him up “for a bit of scotch” as he put it, and Thomas was by no means going to decline any offer from that man. He made himself smoke slowly, watching the few cars and people that passed down the road as he did so, wondering how many of them would think he were the devil if they knew what he was really up to. A good many of them, he imagined. It wasn’t ever an easy thing to forget, but he’d had a sort of barrier to it at Downton in the last few years with most everyone preferring to play along with the status quo rather than create a scene with him at the center. He didn’t tend to dwell on how much of a blessing that really is, but now standing outside, knowing that he could have the entire rest of his life ruined by choosing to go inside and up the stairs, he realized how much he had gotten used to this privilege.

He went up the stairs anyway.

As soon as he knocked on the door and confirmed it was him, Edward pulled him inside and immediately looped his arms around Thomas’ neck. He had already dressed down to his shirtsleeves, and his hair was once more disheveled, prompting Thomas to only make it worse by combing his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Before that afternoon, it had been ages since Thomas had touched a man so freely, and he found it absolutely intoxicating. Edward seemed to feel similarly, because he leaned into Thomas’ touch and closed his eyes, staying that way for just a moment before moving forward again and pressing his lips right under Thomas’ ear. Thomas couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side in response, and he could feel Edward’s lips turn into a smile against his skin before moving to kiss along his jaw and down his neck. 

Eventually, Thomas couldn’t stand it any longer and moved kiss the other man desperately on his lips, hands running along Edward’s back, feeling the warmth of him through the thin material of his shirt. It was no longer like the soft, slow kisses they had shared earlier that day, this one burned. Thomas could have spent the whole night just kissing like that and would have been unthinkably happy, but Edward’s kisses turned more languid before he finally kissed Thomas lightly on the corner of his mouth and nuzzled once again into the crook of his shoulder.

“Thomas?”

“Edward,” he replied, smiling tenderly, beginning to pick up on Edward’s habit of starting questions this way that he wasn’t quite sure how to ask.

He could feel Edward smile, too, “What do you want, from tonight?”

Thomas hummed, tracing his hands down Edward’s spine as he took his time answering, “I suppose I could ask you the same thing. I don’t know really; I’d be quite content with anything you’re willing to give.”

“But what do you want?”

“I don’t know. Honestly. It’s been so long since I’ve – been with anyone.”

Edward nodded slowly against him, “I – yes – me too.”

“Why don’t we just take things slowly then and see where we end up,” Thomas suggested, turning his head to press his lips against Edward’s cheekbone.

“That sounds… perfect,” he contented, hands finding the buttons on Thomas’ jacket and then slipping underneath to push it off his shoulders. As he moved on to undo his tie, he stopped again, laughing, “I do actually have scotch, you know.”

“Oh well why didn’t you say? I figured that was your lie just to trap me up here with you,” Thomas teased back.

“My apologies, I was rather distracted.” Edward slipped away from him then and rummaged around in his bag before he pulled out a bottle of scotch. Thomas finished removing his tie and rolled up his sleeves, moving to sit on the edge of the small bed in the corner as Edward carefully poured the drink into two of the cups set out on the dresser. Once finished, Edward offered him a glass and sat beside him, their shoulders bumping before Thomas moved to sling his arm around the other man’s back.

He felt like he should have been nervous, and he had been a bit at the start because it truly had been years since he had been with another man in any sort of way, but sitting beside Edward, he felt entirely comfortable, warm even, and he couldn’t blame the scotch for that yet. As they sipped their drinks, Edward rested his hand on Thomas’ knee, playing with the dark fabric of his trousers. Thomas just took in the other man, marveling at how he had gotten himself to this point.

“You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that?”

Edward laughed, giving him a beaming smile that crinkled around his nose and eyes, but he shook his head, “I’ve given you too much scotch it seems, Mr. Barrow.”

“No, I mean it. You’re stunning. I’ve never seen anyone so gorgeous in my life.”

“Well aren’t you a pretty talker,” Edward tried to bite back another smile, but it wasn’t working.

“Aye, and suppose I am?”

“I don’t have to suppose,” he replied, voice warm. He finished off the last of his drink and set his glass on the nightstand, Thomas following his lead, and then leaned forward, undoing the next button on Thomas’ shirt, “It makes you quite irresistible.”

“And you aren’t a pretty talker, Mr. Courtenay? If I recall, you were the one who asked me whether you were ‘astonishingly handsome’ that day at the pond.” 

“Hmm, fair enough,” Edward replied, pushing Thomas’ shirt off of him and running his hands up underneath his undershirt, making Thomas suck in a breath before taking that off as well.

Thomas made quick work of Edward’s shirt as well, and then they both had their hands on each other, feeling the warmth of each other’s skin with nothing in between them. As Edward lay his hand over Thomas’ heart, feeling the quickness of his pulse, Thomas mouthed along Edward’s collarbone, making the other man jump beneath him.

“Ah, no one’s ever done that before.”

‘That’s a shame,” Thomas replied sincerely as he pressed against Edward’s chest, laying him back against the bed. He moved his mouth over the other man’s nipple then, causing him to jump harder and make a surprised noise in the back of his throat.

They stayed that way for a while, just kissing their way across each other’s body, but with their legs tangled together, Thomas could feel Edward’s arousal, and he was quite sure the other man could feel his. He didn’t move to do anything about it for a while, wanting to stretch out the moment and have him be sure, but as Edward only proceeded to kiss him harder, he eventually pressed his leg down firmly between Edward’s, making his breath hitch loudly. Thomas then moved from on top of him to instead press against his side, placing his hand where his leg had been and rubbing him again, firmly.

“Oh god,” Edward cried out.

“Shh,” Thomas soothed, moving up to kiss him as he moved his hand again.

“Dammit, Thomas,” Edward hissed, his voice already hoarse.

Thomas stilled his hand then, “Do you want me to continue?”

“I – god – yes, what do you think?”

Thomas unfastened the man’s trousers, but didn’t move to take them off right away, instead running his thumb along the skin just below his waistband. Edward pressed his hips up again, though, “Thomas, please, I swear to god -.”

Thomas slipped the rest of his clothes off and then his own, Edward gripping his shoulder hard as he did so. Now both fully naked, Thomas stopped to admire the man before him, all long limbs and smooth, pale skin. His heart was pounding so loud in his ears now that he felt like he couldn’t hear anything else, and he was suddenly so overwhelmed by the amount of love he felt for the man before him, that it took every single ounce of willpower not to confess the vastness of his feelings right there. Instead he took Edward’s lips back into a searing kiss as he skated his hand along the inside of his thigh. Finally, Thomas reached and took Edward in his hand, feeling the full weight and heat of him for the first time. The desperate sound Edward made against his lips was one he wasn’t likely to forget for a long time.

Edward surprised him then by pulling him back on top so that their bodies aligned together, and they began to move against each other. It was such a precious and powerful thing all at once that Thomas felt like he could no longer think straight. He pressed his mouth into Edward’s neck, and Edward pressed the back of his own hand against his mouth, both of them trying to contain the sounds escaping them. They moved more frantically and out of rhythm until Edward jerked beneath him, sobbing out a cry as he spent himself, and Thomas soon followed, shaking through it as Edward clung to him. 

They lay there silently for some time then, both shivering, Edward smoothing his hands through Thomas’ dark hair and then down his back. After they both had calmed down some and his breathing had become more level, Thomas moved to get up, but Edward reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.

“I’ll be right back, love,” he said, kissing him on the corner of his mouth and not even thinking about the term of endearment that slipped from his lips.

He searched through the drawers for a minute until he found a towel, wetting it in the sink in the corner before laying back down with Edward. He cleaned them both, Edward’s stomach fluttering as the cool cloth hit it, and then took him back in his arms, Edward slinging an arm around his waist and intertwining their ankles.

As they lay tangled together in the blue light of the window, Thomas couldn’t stop staring at the beauty of a man beside him, a man who after everything, was pressed to his side, body molded against his, and Thomas was convinced that this was divinity. He suddenly found that his eyes were burning as well, because after half a lifetime of thinking he was cursed, for the first time he felt truly, unerringly blessed.


	10. Chapter 10

When the gray light of morning was just beginning to seep through the windows and the rest of the world had still not yet stirred, Thomas woke to find himself warm, pressed against his chestnut-haired man. His right arm was asleep, sending needles up into his shoulder, but he couldn’t even bring himself to mind. Never in his entire life had he woken up in the morning with someone still next to him. He had basically given up on the idea entirely a few years ago, deciding that he was just not one meant to know what that feeling was like, and yet now, with Edward next to him, he couldn’t have felt more at peace in his mind and heart.

He knew he needed to get back to the abbey before the rest of the staff arrived downstairs for breakfast, but he couldn’t make himself move just yet. He watched the room take shape around him as the gray light grew stronger and listened to Edward’s even breathing. He wondered if it felt this special for everyone, waking up next to someone they cared for or if the novelty of it waned over time. He didn’t fool himself into thinking that there would ever be a time where he could spend every one of his mornings waking up next to Edward, but if he could, he imagined that he wouldn’t take these things for granted.

After some time, he finally stirred, pulling his arm out from under Edward and letting the blood rush back to his fingers, stinging as it went. Edward moved as well but only to roll over and curl tighter again around the covers. Thomas didn’t want him to wake up to an empty bed, though, not after yesterday, so he lightly reached over and swept the hair out of his eyes. Edward didn’t react at first, but when Thomas ran his fingers along his cheekbone, he blinked his eyes and reached a hand out from under the blanket to place on top of Thomas’.

“It feels early,” he mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.

“It is, but I’ve got to go, love.”

Edward’s mouth curled into a lazy smile at that name, and Thomas felt his heart flutter. Edward just hummed in acknowledgement and closed his eyes again.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.”

“Mm don’t be, I’m glad you woke me.”

Thomas slipped out of bed then, shivering as his bare feet touched the cold floor. He hurried to put on his clothes, wash his face, and brush his hair as best he could. He hadn’t brought anything with him, as that would only make things more suspicious than they frankly already were, so he just had to make himself presentable enough to sneak back to his room. 

Edward sat up in bed as he was putting his shoes on to leave, “I’ll come by the abbey later,” it sounded like it was meant to be a statement, but he could hear the hint of a question underneath.

“Please do, will you be fine getting there?”

“If not, I’ll ask.”

“Of course.”

After checking himself one more time in the mirror to make sure nothing looked too amiss, Thomas sat back down on the edge of the bed next to Edward, placing a hand on his bare shoulder and leaning in to kiss him on the cheek and then on the mouth, the whole thing feeling saturated to the brim with domesticity. His heart bled with that sensation the entire way back to his room and all through breakfast.

\---

It was a busy day for the staff as there were a variety of repairs being completed throughout the house at the same time as they were beginning to pull down the holiday décor from the attic. The garlands and wreaths and everything else natural wouldn’t come for another day, but they still had plenty to sort through with all the ribbons, candles, china sets, and crystal. Edward did indeed make it to the house by midday, but Thomas spent the whole day running around directing the hall boys like an old chorus master and showing the various repairmen through the house. Edward stayed in Thomas’ office most of the afternoon, luckily having the foresight to bring a book, and Thomas would check in as he could, but by the evening, he had migrated into the kitchen where Thomas found him just before dinner, having a cup of tea as the thick braille pages lay open but ignored in his lap. Thomas felt his mouth quirk upwards into a small smile as he overheard Mrs. Patmore and him discussing the merits of different strains of potatoes.

Other than Mr. Carson, Thomas knew that Mrs. Patmore was one of the members of staff who had always seemed to feel the least comfortable with him. He couldn’t blame her really; he had admittedly been a nightmare for more years at Downton than not and now he was the bloody butler. Of course, it would be ridiculous, too, to think everyone could be comfortable with the way he was, but he still kept hoping he could convince her that he really had grown up and really was committed to the wellbeing of both the downstairs and upstairs members of the household. Mrs. Patmore was like Mrs. Hughes too in the way that she could see through anyone’s pretenses or excuses, so watching her let Edward into her domain, a man who she must have at least some inkling of who he was to Thomas, made him feel like she might finally be coming around to him. 

\---

The rest of the day passed in much the same way as the one before it. Thomas spent the night with Edward, a risk for sure, two nights in a row in the same inn, but it was a better option that staying at Downton where none of the rooms locked. The next morning the florist arrived with the mountains of Christmas greenery meant for the house. The florist had plenty of assistants to help put everything up, but the Downton staff was still needed to direct and move things out of the way and clean the remains of trimmed holly and mistletoe off the floor. The house was in a state just shy of chaos from the whole thing and Thomas felt like it would take a miracle for everything to be back to normal in time for the family’s return the next day. Everyone’s level of stress and frustration at each other and the holidays in general had only been rising all morning, so Thomas had them all take a break for lunch a half hour earlier than usual in the hopes of allowing them all to breathe and have it not be down each other’s necks. Just as Mrs. Patmore was collecting the bowls from the table, the telephone rang in the pantry and Thomas ran to pick it up.

“Good afternoon Mr. Barrow,” Lord Grantham’s voice sounded both booming and chipper through the telephone, “We’ve had a change of plans. Lady Mary has been invited to dinner in Sheffield on Monday, so we’re coming back to Downton a day early, I’m afraid. We’ll be back this afternoon, as we already made it halfway this morning.”

Thomas’ mouth hung open for a moment, because of course the family would be returning when the house was in the worst state it had been in since they put the holiday décor away last January. He tightened his grip on the telephone, breathing deeply through his nose to stop himself from slamming it down and hanging up on the lord, “Yes, M’lord.”

“Wonderful, it will be nice to be home!”

Thomas took a few minutes to himself to think of what to do before telling the rest of the staff the news. There was no way they were going to have everything finished and put back together by the time the family arrived for dinner, that was out of the question. The whole house had been overtaken by the florists and they weren’t planning on letting it go until tomorrow afternoon. They might be able to salvage one of the rooms for dinner, but it was going to be at the expense of all the others and the dining room was only a quarter finished, so he found it unlikely that that would be a salvageable option. Edward hadn’t arrived at the abbey yet either, but he very well could arrive any time. Thomas steadied his voice and called the inn to see if he could get a message to Edward, but the lad who answered the phone checked the pub and had someone check his room, but he wasn’t around. Thomas figured there was nothing more he could really do, so he’d just have to hope Edward would miraculously find something else to do for his afternoon.

\---

The cars arrived at three and Thomas stood outside waiting the front door, waiting to greet the family as they arrived. He went to the first car to open the door for Lord Grantham and the two ladies of the house, and Lady Cora was smiling tightly at him, though he wasn’t sure why.

Lady Mary just looked at him, eyebrows raised but blasé as ever, “Mother found us a dinner guest, I hope Mrs. Patmore won’t mind.”

Thomas wanted to say that she already minded quite a lot that they were back a day early so it wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point, but the Lady Cora began speaking directly to him, cutting off his thoughts, “Ever since they visited, I’ve been writing to his mother because I found her to be the most wonderful woman, and as soon as I saw him as we drove through town, I knew who he was. I mean, other than the obvious, he is just the spitting image of his mother, so of course I had to invite him over.” 

He had an unsettling feeling that he knew where this was going, and as he followed Lady Cora’s eyes down to the next car, he could see the two children tumbling out followed by Tom Branson, who was helping a pink-faced Edward out of the car. Thomas was shocked, to say the least, but at had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and not hanging open, though he felt like his insides were boiling.

Once safety on the gravel drive, Branson let go of him to help gather some things of the children’s out of the car and Edward stood there awkwardly, looking disoriented and at a loss for what to do. Thomas had to grip his hands tight against his sides to stop himself from running over and helping him; he had completely no idea what the protocol was for this situation. Eventually Branson did take notice and grabbed on to Edward’s elbow, Edward laughing nervously at something Branson said as he allowed himself to be pulled along.

“Mr. Courtenay said he was here to see you, actually, Mr. Barrow. That you were expecting him,” Lady Mary said, though her voice still indifferent.

Not wanting to contradict anything Edward might have offered up, he just answered in the affirmative.

“Oh, why didn’t you say anything, Barrow? We would have invited him outright had we known,” Lady Cora implored.

“Well, I do beg your pardon, M’lady,” Thomas said as diplomatically as he could, years of service luckily not letting him down, “As the Scotland visit had already been planned, I wasn’t expecting the family to be home.”

“Still, you could have mentioned it, Barrow. Perhaps we could have planned it all out beforehand.”

Lady Mary sighed dramatically, “Really Mother, Mr. Courtenay himself said this was the only time he could get out of London, and he was here just to see Mr. Barrow anyways. I don’t think it’s a crime for our butler to have a friend from London come visit.”

“But a member of the Courtenay family? Son of the Earl of Devon, here alone, without us, and no invitation to dinner? I don’t know what I’m going to have to write to his mother, truly, Mary, it’s quite improper.”

“Oh please, things have always been untraditional at Downton,” Lady Mary sighed again, ending the argument by sweeping her way into the household, leaving Lady Cora to paste a smile on her face and follow. 

After Lord Grantham, Tom Branson led Edward in through the front door. All Thomas wanted to do was reach out and just touch him, even for a second, but he just said, “Welcome to Downton, Mr. Courtenay,” and Edward shook his head slightly, seeming to be in matching disbelief of the whole situation.

The children ran in next followed by Nanny and immediately both wrapped themselves around his legs, knocking him backwards into the door. He couldn’t keep in his grin as soon as he saw them, because they were now, and be was quite should would always be, the most delightful part of Downton.

“Hello, Master George, Miss Sybbie, welcome back home.”

“Hello Mr. Barrow!” Sybbie’s whole face scrunched up as she grinned up at him, “Did you miss us? You said you would.”

“Of course I did, tremendously, though I do hope you both had a lovely time in Scotland?”

“Donk took us on a boat and let us feed the ducks!” George piped up.

“Well that does sound fun.”

“Mr. Barrow,” Sybbie whispered loudly, “We also met a blind man!”

“Yes, I know, he’s here right now. Mr. Courtenay is my good friend.”

“Really? But he’s so strange!”

“He just can’t see is all, Miss Sybbie, I can assure you he’s just like anyone else otherwise.”

George looked confused still, “But isn’t he scared of the dark?”

“I think he’s probably used to it, but I can ask him for you if you like.” George nodded solemnly up at him then, seeming to be satisfied with that for now.

\---

Lady Mary was not satisfied with the state of the house, however. Thomas found it ironic really, after her just telling her mother how nothing was every quite proper at Downton anyways, but it appeared that this was just about crossing the line for her. She couldn’t stop commenting on the mess of everything and how it was like Humpty Dumpty after he cracked, never to be put back together again. He kept having to bite his tongue to keep himself from explaining that it really would have all been fine had the family stuck to their original plans. Since they hadn’t, dinner would be served in the library. Luckily for all of them, it was decided that it was just going to be a light affair. They would have dinner early and then rest, and out of all the things that day, Thomas felt like this was the only good decision that had been made.


	11. Chapter 11

In the midst of the half-hung greenery, they set up a table for dinner in the library. Edward didn’t have any dinner clothes to change into, so as the family went upstairs to take off their travelling clothes, Edward sat in the corner of the library, looking bored, hands folded but fidgeting in his lap. As Thomas and Andy set out the silver and crystal on the table and brought up the dishes from the kitchen, Thomas watched him out of the corner of his eye. He itched to talk to him, he was his guest anyhow, but he couldn’t figure out their roles anymore and so he kept his distance for the time being and it stung. Thomas never really thought of Edward as someone of a higher class, his accent might be a touch posher, but Edward was so distant from his family, it didn’t tend to come up. Unfortunately, with him sitting there on the other side of the room, about to be served by him, Thomas felt the divide sharply in his chest. Once everyone had finally trickled back down into the library, he watched as Lord Grantham went and patted Edward heartily on the back, making him jump just slightly with surprise, and lead him by the shoulder to the table where he sat across from Lady Mary, and the ache lodged itself in Thomas’ throat, making it suddenly hard to swallow.

The conversation was polite but stilted for quite a while, the family no better than the staff had been at containing their curiosity when beholding Edward. Although they tried to be more circumspect, Thomas watched as all of their eyes kept drifting back to Edward, who was so far making a valiant effort to pretend like everything was fine and normal.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a dinner as nice as this,” Edward offered up politely, though his tone sounded empty, “Thank you very much for the invitation. I know it was quite the change of plans.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all. We’re so honored to have you here. Don’t you miss dinners like this?” Lady Cora cooed.

Edward paused for a minute, and from that Thomas knew that his answer was no, but he smiled and replied politely, “They do always make for very interesting evenings.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have come earlier this year when we had your family here to visit. It would have been so nice to meet you then.”

“Mm, yes. Unfortunately, I’m not able to make it away from London as often as I would like. “

“And do you miss the countryside, Mr. Courtenay?” Lady Mary asked.

“Indeed, I do, very much.” Thomas could hear in his voice that that was the most genuine thing he had said all afternoon.

“Well whatever keeps you in London, then?” Cora asked, apparently still finding it difficult to comprehend that anyone from a noble family might have a job other than laying around at their estate all day “I’ve heard your family’s estate in Devon is just gorgeous.”

Edward smiled thinly then, his voice slightly on edge, “It is, though I’m afraid that’s more my brother’s territory these days. It’s still been an awfully interesting few years, though, now living in city and all. It’s not the same, but it keeps me occupied.”

“What exactly is it that you do, there?”

“I teach gardening skills classes to other men who were blinded in the war.”

Everyone shifted slightly in their seats, uncomfortable with mentioning what they thought was unmentionable, “And you’re able to do that? I can’t imagine how difficult that must be for you!” Cora asked, surprised. Thomas could the see sting of that in Edward’s face, but he masked it well. Thomas felt the twinge of it as well, but he tried to lower his breathing; he knew they weren’t being ignorant on purpose; they were just ignorant because they probably hadn’t met anyone like Edward before.

Edward tilted his head, lips pressed together, “Well of course I have the support of everyone at the organization, but yes, I teach the classes myself.”

“What is it you like about gardening, Mr. Courtenay?” Lady Mary asked. For all her faults, she was effortlessly good at turning around conversations.

“If I’m honest, I’m quite a poor gardener. I’ve always been interested in the whole business of agriculture, but the position was open, so I took it. It would have been a crime not to; it’s quite difficult to find fulfilling work for men like myself. I’ve been doing a lot of studying up on gardening, though, so I might become a good one yet.”

“I imagine you’ll be quite successful,” Lady Mary offered, and to Thomas’ surprise she actually sounded genuine.

The evening improved marginally from there, but only just so. Lord Grantham eventually moved to conversation on to cricket and the mood lightened. Thomas watched Edward closely throughout the rest of the meal, however, and his smile was always just two shades more polite and two shades less radiant than usual.

\---

To Thomas’ surprise, Lady Mary stayed for quite a while after dinner to talk with Edward. Even after the rest of the family had retired up to their rooms, the two of them stood around the fire, deep in conversation. Thomas could only hear snippets, but he understood that they were talking about farming and the Downton estate and that they both seemed genuinely interested in what the other had to say. They stayed for so long, in fact, that Thomas eventually decided to dismiss Andy downstairs, figuring he could handle the rest on his own. 

As the night sky deepened into a deep Prussian blue, Lady Mary looked at the fire and then across the room at Thomas, sighing tiredly, “I suppose I should release you here to Mr. Barrow, Mr. Courtenay. I know you didn’t come all the way from London to see me.”

Edward’s mouth tipped upwards into a small smile, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’m afraid I’m about ready to drop after all of today’s travelling. And to think I agreed to visit Sheffield on Monday,” Lady Mary set her glass on the mantle and then gestured over to where Thomas was standing, “He’s all yours Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas nodded, “Good night, M’lady,” and waited for her to leave out of the room before picking up her glass to balance it on his tray. He then reached out and tapped Edward’s hand, sliding the glass from his fingers and adding it to the tray before speaking, “I still have some things I need to finish before tonight.” He could hear the slight strain in his voice and wished he could clear it away, not knowing quite why it was all affecting him so much.

Edward slid his hand up from Thomas’ fingers to the spot right above his elbow, squeezing firmly and grounding Thomas some, “Would you like me to wait for you in your office or would it be better for me to head back to the inn,” he asked quietly, voice so tender it was melting.

Thomas really wasn’t sure what was best, but when he thought of Edward heading back across the town alone in the dark to the inn, he knew he would rather face the inquisition of the staff than have that. “Let’s go downstairs,” he offered finally, leading him out of the room and down the servant’s staircase to the butler’s pantry. 

With the household returning early, the downstairs was still bustling with life when they arrived. They didn’t escape the notice of anyone, but the rest of the staff at least seemed busy enough with their tasks not to ask about Edward’s presence. Most of the downstairs staff had probably already heard about Mr. Courtenay from someone at this point, Thomas figured, though how many of them already knew their relationship, he couldn’t be sure and didn’t care to think too long about it or it would keep him up at night.

Edward sat in the corner of the pantry as Thomas ran about filling out the ledgers, checking the silver, and writing out a delivery order for more wine. His head was tilted back against the headrest of the chair and his eyes were closed, but Thomas could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep. As he left the room to head to the wine cellar one last time for the night, he could see a few people still sitting in the main room and though he tried to float past without notice, Phyllis pinned him with her eyes and got up to follow him towards the cellar. 

“Mrs. Hughes said Mr. Courtenay has been here for three days.”

Thomas stopped and looked at her. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, just matter of fact, but he still felt examined. No one else had been quite so direct. “He has.”  
Phyllis raised her eyebrows at him in surprise, as if she hadn’t believed Mrs. Hughes the first time, “Mr. Barrow…” she started, her eyes growing warm as she looked at him, though it still made him want to squirm away, “Might he be ‘the’ friend you told me about?”

It was no use lying, he knew she could see right through his masks with uncanny accuracy, so he nodded.

“…and is he still only a friend?”

Thomas looked at the ceiling and then at his toes, not sure how much he wanted to give away so openly, but he looked back and Phyllis and remembered that this was the woman who had sat with him for day after day, keeping him from death, and he shook his head no. It didn’t matter really; he knew that she must already know. Everyone close to him must already or soon would, for despite how much he used to pride himself on being unreadable, his façade had become more transparent over the years. Still, admitting it so openly to someone felt almost too exposed. 

Phyllis just smiled softly at him, her eyes shining, “Are you happy?”

“I think – yes. Yes.”

She smiled brighter and then leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before heading back to the servant’s hall and leaving him in the hallway, his hand pressed against his face.

\---

“I’m all finished for the night,” Thomas said softly as he closed the pantry door behind them, making his way across the room to pull up a chair across from Edward.

Edward lifted his head from the back of the chair, blinking open his unfocused eyes and reaching out his hand, palm up, for Thomas to take, “I’m sorry about this evening. I can tell it bothered you.”

“It didn’t you?”

“No, it did,” he sighed heavily, “It was a very unwelcome reminder that class still matters.”

Thomas nodded before remembering that Edward couldn’t see him and then he tried to put to words what had been forming inside him all evening, “It made me feel… like a lesser man.” It sounded silly as soon as he said it, but Edward gave his hand a squeeze anyways, “I don’t mean that in an arrogant way,” he continued, wanting to clarify, “It’s my job, serving people, being seen and not heard and all that, but…” he still wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

“It shattered the idea that we come from equal worlds,” Edward finished for him.

Thomas put his chin in his hand, throat still full of that cross feeling from dinner even as Edward ran his thumb in circles across the back of his hand, “They stared at you all dinner, you know, like you were some animal to be poked and prodded in a zoo.”

Edward sighed again, “Thomas, you really shouldn’t let that bother you or you’ll spend your whole life enraged.”

“But when it’s my staff, or even anyone else, really, I can tell them off. I felt so bloody helpless standing there all dinner right beside you and not being able to say a word.”

“That’s just how these things are, we both know that. I wouldn’t have expected you to do anything differently.”

“I wanted to.”

“I know.”

“How did they find you anyways?” 

Edward leaned back in his chair and laughed, but it didn’t have his usual cheekiness behind it, “They gave me a real fright, if I’m honest. I was out all morning just wondering around and getting some fresh air, and when I was just going to go back to the inn to pick up my book and come here, I heard a car pull up beside me and someone I didn’t know calling my name. It was all quite shocking, really,” he shook his head, “I tried giving every excuse I had not to come to dinner, but obviously to no avail.”

“I would say that their talent for being inconsiderate amazes me, but I spent most of my life being just as inconsiderate if not more so. At least I seemed to have grown out of it…”

“They weren’t all so terrible,” Edward conceded, “I had some interesting conversations with Tom Branson in the car and Lady Mary after dinner. And the children, of course. They were just as darling as you said.”

“They have their moments,” Thomas said, but he let himself smile finally, continually amazed at Edward’s ability to improve upon any situation.

They both were quiet for a while, Edward continuing to hold Thomas’ hand in his. After a few moments, Edward sat forward in his chair, his long legs bumping up against Thomas’ knees, “Thomas.”

“Edward.”

“I’ll miss you terribly after I go back to London tomorrow, you know.”

Thomas leant forward as well until his head rested against Edward’s. “I actually didn’t know, not for sure, but I rather hoped you would.”

“You’re daft, my darling, of course I will.” Edward smiled against him, voice like syrup.

Thomas felt his heart clench tight at that, his breath just catching in his lungs. Edward nudged Thomas’ face to the side slightly with his nose and pressed their lips tenderly together. Thomas opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and felt his whole soul ache with it. Edward then moved his hand to rest on Thomas’ chest, fingers curling around the lapel of his jacket as Thomas moved to press kisses along the side of his neck.

“Come back and have scotch with me?” he asked headily, gasping slightly as Thomas continued to dust his lips across his warm skin.

“You’re out of scotch, love, we finished it yesterday,” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed his lips under Edward’s ear

“I wasn’t aware you were only there for the drinks.” Edward teased, leaning his head back as Thomas kissed him.

“Of course I’m not, I’m there for you.”

\---

After Edward returned to London the next day, Thomas found himself sulking again in front of the fire after the workday was done. He knew he was being right pathetic doing it, but he found he couldn’t seem think of anything else except the green-eyed man who’d unexpectedly changed his life in just one weekend. He stared down at the newspaper that was open on his lap, but his eyes weren’t reading it, instead he kept thinking about the way Edward looked in the morning, hair askew and face relaxed, smiling sleepily at Thomas.

He was brought out of his reverie as Anna stopped before him, a pair of Lady Mary’s brown boots in her hand, “Has Mr. Courtenay returned to London already, Mr. Barrow?”

“I’m afraid he has.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I was going to tell him that Lady Mary gave him a very nice compliment this evening.”

“Did she?” Thomas asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes, she said something along the lines of ‘his brother claimed Mr. Courtenay to be terribly boring, but I think that’s a much more fitting description of his brother’s personality. Mr. Courtenay is one of the more interesting people I’ve met in quite a while’ and I just thought he’d like to know. That’s quite a nice compliment coming from Lady Mary.”

Thomas could feel the surprised look on his face, but he couldn’t seem to put it away, “Indeed, it is. I’ll have to write him and let him know.”

\---

Dear Thomas,

I just read the letter you sent a week ago, and it was lovely to hear from you. You, and apparently Lady Mary Crawley, flatter me all too much. I apologize for not writing sooner, I wasn’t in London for very long after my visit to Downton and therefore didn’t have the ability to write. I could have asked someone else to write down my letters for me I suppose, but Mrs. Lawrence here does such a wonderful job, I found I’d rather wait. I hope it didn’t worry you, though I worry it might’ve. 

I don’t know why I didn’t just call actually; it would have been nice to hear from you, but alas here we are. 

I wanted to thank you again for letting me intrude on your work all weekend. It was lovely returning to Downton and this time actually getting to meet all the people you write to me about so often. Now I’ll have something to reference to when you complain. Of course, I enjoyed seeing you as well. It was beyond wonderful and much more beyond what I imagined when I was on my way there. More could be said on that front, but I’ll save that for when I see you next, I think. I’m sure you understand.

For why I haven’t written, it turns out that Lady Grantham has in fact been in rather close contact with my mother since this summer and wrote her immediately so say that I visited. My mother was quite hurt by the fact that I visited without telling her and because I visited Downton before visiting my own family estate. This was quite understandable I must admit, because I haven’t visited my mother in quite some time. I then felt badly about it all and headed to Devon for a few days.

As I imagined, it went horribly. I don’t mean to exaggerate so, but it truly was a ghastly time. My father didn’t know what to do with me and my mother switched between worrying about my every movement and acting like I died. I know I shouldn’t complain because it is out of love for me that she does it, but I do wish she’d show her love in a different way that’s not quite so suffocating. Jack and I of course sparred the whole weekend, and it got rather nasty I’m afraid. I won’t claim to be entirely innocent for this either. Our fights were brought on by both of us and I find I lose all sense of propriety around him. I can’t imagine I’ll be paying another visit to my family soon after that, though one good thing did come out of it all. My parents have had a small house by the sea ever since I was a child, but with finances getting tight in households like ours, as I’m sure you know, they’re planning on selling it. I haven’t been in years, as it’s not a place I felt entirely comfortable visiting on my own, and I was absolutely not going to go with my family, but I asked Mother if I might visit it with a friend before they sell it. Jack said I was being silly and sentimental, but Mother agreed as long as I visit before March when they’re planning to have everything finished for the sale. 

I hope you’re well and greatly look forward to hearing from you again. With Christmas truly upon us, I think I’ll call you to send you holiday greetings soon. I do wish I could make it back up to the country when you have your time off on Christmas, but I don’t think I’ll be able to as I’ve already missed a rather large chunk of work and the garden is suffering tremendously. 

I also wanted to let you know that I purchased a very nice bottle of scotch yesterday. I thought about buying something else to make things more adventurous, but then I thought of the bottle we shared at Downton and I couldn’t stop myself from sticking with scotch again. I haven’t opened it yet; I thought we might be able to share it next time I see you.

Sincerely yours,  
Edward

P.S. I do hope you understand that when I mentioned bringing a friend to the seaside, that that friend is you and this is an invitation.


	12. Chapter 12

It seemed like the whole world had become gray and wet as the frost began to melt in mid-February. The trees were still black and bare and grass had yet to grow in the muddy fields and the wind was still as bitter as ever, but the birds were starting to trickle out of the branches and sing again the quiet air, meaning that spring had no choice but to arrive soon. 

Thomas hadn’t taken any time off in the last two and a half months since Edward visited; he hadn’t had any reason to since Edward wasn’t able to take time off either, and it seemed pointless to waste a half day on himself just to go sit alone in York or Ripon. He had also been saving them up so that he could eventually ask for a few full days off. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he was determined to take Edward up on his invitation of the seashore. Things had been quiet in the household since Christmas, too. Everything was so normal in fact that conversation around the dinner table both upstairs and down had become mind-numbingly boring as no one had anything new to say at all. 

Edward and he had been writing quite regularly again, which gave a lovely reprieve from the monotony of work. Every once in a while now, one of the women downstairs would see him reading a letter and ask about it, knowing always that it would be from Mr. Courtenay. Thomas wanted so badly to be annoyed by it, he was used to hating people who pried into his life, but he found it surprisingly comforting now, knowing that other people were interested in his life. He never said much, of course, not knowing what exactly was appropriate to say about the life of someone he loved, never having truly loved anyone in this way before and definitely not ever having had anyone to talk about it to, but he would always inform them that Mr. Courtenay was doing fine, and they would smile at him and continue on with their evening, leaving a lingering warmth in his chest.

When he finally got around to asking the family for time off, he almost decided to lie and come up with the death of a cousin or some other excuse to make sure he would be allowed to go, but then he thought of all the time he hadn’t taken and decided he wanted his fair share. The family didn’t overly seem pleased that he would be gone for a full two and a half days, but no one could think of any proper reason he would be needed around seeing as nothing at all was happening, so he found his wish to be granted with only minimal complaint and comparison to Carson. He telephoned Edward at work immediately and they agreed to meet in Seaton in just over a week’s time. He thought he could hear Edward’s grin through the telephone line all the way from London.

\---

Edward was already at the train station by the time he arrived. The sky was gray but bright, enough to give you a headache if you stared at it for too long, but Edward was sitting on a bench at the station, face turned up to the clouds, seeming to soak in the brightness through his skin. Not many people got off the train with him, the seaside not being especially popular this time of year, and so he was able to move quickly to where Edward sat.

“Mr. Courtenay,” he teased, biting back a smile, “Fancy finding you here. It’s quite a long way from London if I may say.”

Edward lowered his face from the sky, his cheeks rosy, “It’s quite a bit farther to Yorkshire from here, Mr. Barrow.”

“Indeed it is. Shall we be off then? I’m dying to see the shore. I haven’t been to the sea in right ages.”

“Of course, if you don’t mind, I thought we could walk. It’s a little far, but if I remember correctly it’s quite nice,” he rummaged through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper, “I did have my father draw a map for us, though,” he said handing it to Thomas, “I’m not very confident at all that I could get us there alone.”

“That was kind of him.”

“It was. I think he was glad to have something concretely helpful to do, actually,” he stood then and took Thomas’ arm, “Enough talk of my family though, I’m here to see you.”

\---

Edward was right about the walk. It was incomparably refreshing. The sky may have been gray and the wind strong, turning both their noses and cheeks bright with the cold, but otherwise winter had skipped over the whole place entirely. The seabirds were hobbling about their nests and squawking overhead and the smell of saltwater was strong in the air. They made their way through the small town first before turning off onto a path that ran sandy along the sea cliffs, tall grass swaying brown on either side, brushing up against their legs. Edward looked stunning against the backdrop of the pigeon blue sea, hair swept up by the breeze and hand firm on Thomas’ arm. 

After they had been following the path for quite a way, Edward stopped him, “Are we alone here?”

Thomas looked around and couldn’t see a single house or person in any direction. They were completely exposed, nothing taller than their knees to hide behind, but, seeming to be surrounded only by nature, Thomas answered in the affirmative. Edward smiled then and set his case on the ground beside him and reached across to take Thomas’ and do the same. Taking some of Edward’s confidence, Thomas reached out and stroked the other man’s cheek, thumb grazing under his green eyes. Edward moved closer, slipping his hands through Thomas’ unbuttoned coat to plant them against his hips. The whole thing felt surreal, standing out there for all of the natural world to see, but it felt so perfect and poetic and natural in its own right that Thomas stopped hesitating and leant forward to capture Edward’s lips in a kiss. It felt achingly intimate and sincere even though it ought to have felt daring, and Thomas found himself pressing closer to Edward, seeking out his warmth. Edward continued to kiss him slowly and deeply, thumbs pressing into Thomas’ hipbones, breath hitching as Thomas ran his chilled fingers down his cold neck. Edward was the one to finally break it, sighing as he wrapped his arms fully around Thomas, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you desperately, my duck.”

Thomas felt his whole face heat up as he grinned into Edward’s shoulder, “I’ve never been anyone’s duck before,” he said, his voice coming out breathier than intended.

“You were always that in my head.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, though it wouldn’t have exactly been appropriate to call you that at first and then I was rather embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I find I quite like it coming from your lips.”

It was Edward’s turn to blush then as he pulled back from Thomas, hands moving from his waist to arms and then down to find their discarded suitcases, “I’m glad. I think you might be stuck with it now then,” he said as he began to pull them along the path again.

\---

A half hour later they were finally at the Courtenay’s house. It was a lovely thing, two stories and painted a shade of blue just lighter than the sea, and it stood up on a low cliff that led right down to a sandy section of the beach. Thomas felt completely surrounded by the sea there. It was impossible to escape it as the waves crashing onto shore were loud in the air. They made their way into the house and had only set their luggage down on the sitting room floor before Edward was taking off his hat and coat and tugging him outside to see the sea.

They made their way slowly down the low ridge to the sand. Thomas went first, scrambling down the large boulders before reaching up to steady Edward as he did the same, hands exploring the creases of the rocks as he went along. Once on the sand, Edward toed off his socks and shoes and rolled his trousers up to his ankles. He made his way carefully out across the sand, looking like he was meant to be nowhere else but there, his white shirt, tan trousers, and tousled hair matching the seafoam and sand. He stopped once he reached wet sand, digging his toes in and waiting for a wave to wash over his feet. When one finally did, he jumped back at the cold, only to then move forward again, chasing the water at his feet. Thomas just watched him at first, marveling at how handsome he looked ankle-deep in the gray sea but then a larger wave came and crashed against Edward, knocking him back and soaking him up past his knees and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh.

“What did you think was going to happen, love?” he teased, slipping off his own shoes to join him, though making sure to stay back from the chilly waves.

“So you’re just going to let me be cold alone then, duck?” Edward said, moving back until his hand was resting low on Thomas’ spine, his mouth wide in a bright grin.

“If you’re asking whether I’m planning to go for a swim in February, then yes, I think you might have to be cold alone.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked with a wild smile, and before Thomas could answer, he was pushing him forward into the waves, both of them getting splashed by the salty foam up to their waists.

The cold of the water almost knocked the breath out of him, but he found he was grinning as well. “Aren’t you devious,” he gasped, grabbing Edward by the waist and knocking them both into another wave. It was Edward who was gasping at the cold then, but Thomas could see a competitive look forming in his face just before Edward latched onto his arm and tackled him fully into the water, soaking them both completely. 

They were soon both laughing, shrieking really, at the cold, and pulling each other into the waves. Thomas was sure they looked like madmen, hair stuck to their foreheads and lips blue, throwing each other into the winter sea, but he was delirious with happiness. They kept a tight grip on each other the whole time, Edward never losing contact with Thomas’ hand or arm or waist, always knowing right where he was as he pulled him again and again into the ocean. Edward was a strong swimmer, too, pulling them back to shore, arms around Thomas, whenever the waves pushed them out. When they were finally breathless with laughter and shivering uncontrollably, Thomas pulled them out of the water, and they ran out onto the sand towards the house. Feet numb, Thomas lost his footing halfway there and fell onto the wet sand, Edward landing on top of him and laughing as he kissed his blue lips. Thomas tried to kiss back, but his teeth were chattering so hard it was impossible, which only made Edward laugh more before pulling him up out of the sand. They finally made it to the cliffs, and Thomas helped Edward up before returning back for their shoes. When he was finally up again, Edward was waiting for him on the small porch in front of the house, arms wrapped in front of him, shivering and grinning widely.

“Come on, let’s run a bath,” Thomas said as they made their way inside, leaving their sandy shoes just inside the door.

Edward led them upstairs to the bathroom where Thomas turned on the bath with water hot enough to put steam in the air. Thomas managed to peel himself quickly out of his wet clothes, but Edward’s hands were shaking with cold, so Thomas reached out and started undoing the buttons on his shirt for him.

“Aren’t you a doll.”

“This was my job for quite a few years, so I hope I can still manage.”

“What, and you usually got in a hot bath with them afterwards?” Edward smiled at his own cheekiness which only received him a push towards the bath from Thomas. 

Edward got in the tub first, letting out a deeply contented sigh as the steaming water hit his frozen skin. He sank deep into the bath, submerging himself completely for a few seconds before reemerging and reaching an arm out to invite Thomas in. Thomas hadn’t ever done this kind of thing with a man before and hesitated for a moment before getting in at the opposite end, their bare legs tangling together in the middle. The water and steam indeed felt heavenly and Thomas rested his head back against the edge of the tub for a while, letting his eyes fall shut and muscles relax before Edward was pulling at his arms, turning him around awkwardly until Thomas rested against his chest, Edward’s long legs on either side of him. Thomas shivered despite himself as Edward wrapped his arms around Thomas’ stomach and rested his head against Thomas’ where it lay against his chest.

To Thomas’ surprise, the sun seemed to have escaped the clouds then and began shining bright yellow, golden-hour light across the bathroom and glinting off the water droplets on Edward’s freckled skin. The moment was bewitching and as Edward continued to run his hands up and down Thomas’ chest, he realized that he didn’t think he had ever felt quite so cared for and loved in his whole life and pressed closer into Edward’s chest.

They stayed like that for a while longer, the sun staying out as well, before Edward slowly moved his hand lower to stroke down the inside of Thomas’ thighs and then between his legs. Thomas shuddered at the feeling of Edward’s hand on him and could feel his arousal forming quickly. He felt like he should somehow start to return the favor, but he found himself so spellbound by the moment that he just stayed still and let Edward stroke him slowly. Edward didn’t say anything, just kissing his way along Thomas’ shoulder, and Thomas soon found himself moaning softly against him as the pleasure seeped deeper and deeper. When it finally got too much, he arched into Edward’s hand and tangling his fingers into the brown hair at the base of his neck, pulling slightly, as he came with a gasp and Edward’s name on his lips. Edward continued to stroke him through it before moving his hand back to his chest and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of Thomas’ neck as his breathing returned to normal.

That was really all they had done so far together, just used their hands or bodies together, but as Thomas felt Edward’s own arousal hard against the base of his spine, he found himself carding his hand through Edward’s hair and whispering madly, “I want to put my mouth on you,” to which Edward shuddered and nodded against his neck. 

Thomas got out of the bath then, his legs still wobbly as he stood, and then helped Edward out as well. He found a towel to dry them both off with before nuzzling close against Edward from head to toe and running his hands along his sides as he pressed Edward backwards until his back was to the wall next to the window, still glowing with the sun. Edward was shivering again, and Thomas felt like it must be nerves, so he just kissed him for a long time before moving to do anything else. He kissed down his whole chest before finally sinking down to his knees and resting his cheek against Edward’s hipbone, thumb circling around the other as Edward’s had done to him earlier in the day. Thomas moved then to put his other hand around the base of his arousal first, and when Edward tilted his head back against the wall in response, Thomas finally put his mouth around the heat of the other man, relishing the chocked sound of surprise that escaped Edward’s lips. Thomas took him slowly, as Edward had him, heart full at the quiet tenderness of the moment. Edward’s lips were parted, but all sound had stopped coming from him; Thomas wasn’t really sure that he was breathing anymore. With his arm slung over his eyes and sunlight splashing diagonally across his chest, Thomas thought he looked like a god descended from heaven. Edward’s hips stuttered then, and he cried out suddenly as he spilled into Thomas’ mouth, hand reaching to grip tightly in Thomas’ hair just as he had done to him. Thomas swallowed him down and kissed him softly against his hipbones and shaking thighs before moving up his body to kiss him on the mouth, arms wrapping all the way around him like a shield.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blood, violence, homophobia

The night was cold, and as Thomas went around closing all the drapes around the house, he could feel the draft seeping in under the windows and stretching its cold breathe into the inside air. As he made a fire in the living room to try and combat the chill, he could see Edward down the hall in the small kitchen, searching around the cabinets for a kettle to make tea. He had been searching for a while without success, but he hadn’t asked for any help yet, so Thomas just let him be, only entering once Edward had the kettle over the lit stove. He was utterly charmed by the domesticity of it all, and upon entering the kitchen pressed his hand into Edward’s back and kissed him under the ear, making the other man cough in surprise and smile, fingers stilling on the countertop where they had been drumming, waiting for the water to boil. Thomas then went and pulled out the bread and jam and cheese he had brought with him to make them both some toasts for the evening. Having never needed to before, he didn’t really know how to cook anything, and for the first time in his life, he suddenly found himself wishing he knew how. He figured living off of sandwiches and toasts for a weekend wasn’t too bad a price to pay however to spend time alone by the sea.

After their meal, they moved back into the living room to sit by the fire. Thomas searched through the bookshelves in the room until he found something interesting and then sat down on the couch next to Edward, who then laid back, arms tucked under his head, and crossed his feet across Thomas’ lap. Thomas read aloud to him, hand curled around Edward’s ankle, occasionally looking up to see the warm firelight reflected in his unseeing eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he read for, but he could feel himself being lulled by the sounds of the crackling fire and the crashing of the sea and finally closed the book, put out the fire, and led them both up to bed.

\---

The next morning was as gray as the last, but that didn’t stop them both from waking early to the sounds of the seabirds calling out into the sky. They got dressed and went down to the kitchen to make some breakfast, Edward still looking tired but content. After they had finished and cleared the dishes away, Thomas headed out behind the house to have a quick smoke, drinking in the salty air as he did. He looked out over the sloping hillside and could see the path they had taken the day before as well as a dirt road that wound up past the crest of the faraway hill and off into town. He became lost in the scenery for a while, his mind wondering out across the swaying grass, when he heard the distinct hum of a car engine and saw a black car crest the hill and begin to slowly make its way downwards. Thomas just watched it for a while, unconcerned, until he realized that there was nowhere else the car could be heading but to Edward’s family home. He stubbed out his cigarette and hurried back inside the house, finding Edward still sitting at the kitchen table.

“There’s a car headed down the driveway.”

Edward’s brows knitted together at his forehead and he stood, “That’s odd, no one ever comes here. Did you see what they looked like?”

“No,” Thomas said, but he moved through the house until he reached a window that looked out onto the road and squinted. He still wasn’t able to make anything out at first, but as the car drew closer, he was able to see the man clearer and clearer until, with a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, it dawned on him why he recognized the driver, “It’s your brother.”

Edward stilled beside him, “Oh god,” he whispered, before running his hands over his face and up through his hair, distressing the waves that had been combed down just before, “He has a lot of nerve…”

Thomas looked from Edward to the window again, not seeming to understand what Edward was suddenly understanding, “Why is he…?”

Before he could even finish his question, Edward reached out until he found his shoulder, squeezing it tightly, “Just stay here, alright? Please.”

Thomas felt deeply uneasy at the tight quality to Edward’s voice, but he agreed anyways, watching as Edward made his way back through the house and out the door. Thomas stayed by the window, and after a minute, he could see Edward standing at the side of the house, arms crossed tightly across his chest and face tinged pink with anger. The car finally pulled into the driveway, and Jack hopped out quickly from it, striding across the yard to stand in front of Edward, a tight smile plastered on his face. 

“Good morning, brother,” He said, fake politeness oozing from his voice. Thomas pressed up closer to the glass to try and hear them better.

“No,” Edward said firmly, his face growing stiffer. 

“Oh, come now, I’ve driven all this way. You won’t even greet me.”

“No. I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you really?”

“You’re here to intimidate me, to make me leave.” Thomas didn’t understand, but he also didn’t like where this was going at all. He just clenched his fists tightly at his sides, not wanting to interrupt something that Edward didn’t want him to interrupt, at least not yet. 

“I don’t care about this weekend, Edward, I care about the future: of the family, the house.”

“I have every right to it, same as you.”

“I wouldn’t say the same, I’m not quite so useless… I wouldn’t be quite so likely to fail.”

“Nothing’s been decided yet, Jack. I wish you’d leave it until it was.” Edward’s own hands were clenched now, too, and his face was even redder.

“But it will be, I know they’ll give it to you. You always get what you want, its pitiful,” Jack sneered, taking a step closer to Edward.

“Do I? I rather think it’s the other way around, not that I minded usually, but I do now.”

“So, this is it then? Your chance to ruin the family?”

“I think we both know that’s already been done,” Edward replied, his voice frosty.

“Only by you.”

“You need to leave.”

“And you’re going to make me?”

“You need to leave!” Edward yelled at him again, stepping forward and shoving Jack backwards towards the car with a good amount of force. Jack’s face melted into anger, and he swung his arm out swiftly, knocking his fist into Edward’s jaw. Thomas had had enough then and sprinted out the door and over to where the two men were now fighting, Edward reaching out to try and get any hold on Jack that he could, his hands snatching through the air. 

Thomas arrived just in time to see Edward scratch down Jack’s face with his fingers. Jack recoiled and punched Edward square in the nose, blood starting to drip from it immediately. Thomas’s insides were boiling, and he wanted more than anything to knock Jack out in return, but as Edward moved forward again, Thomas grabbed him tightly around the waist, pinning his arms at his sides and pulling him backwards.

“It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it,” he kept repeating as Edward struggled against him, but he could still here the seething anger in his own voice. 

As soon as he had trapped Edward against him, Jack stopped and looked at the pair of them. He was breathing heavily, and his face was streaked with red where Edward had dug in his nails, but he looked at them with a calculated stare.

“So that’s how it is,” he said quietly, his voice calm and cold.

Edward broke free of Thomas’ hold, then, grabbing several rocks off the ground as he launched towards the sound of his brother’s voice. He caught Thomas off guard, and by the time Thomas had started running, Edward was already ahead, chasing his brother back towards the car and pelting the rocks at him. None of them hit, all missing Jack by full meters, but as Jack ducked and turned the car engine on, Edward was close enough that he managed to throw one right into the hood of the car, leaving a dent and a long scratch all the way down the front through the black paint. Thomas was able to grab him once again then, pulling Edward closely to him as Jack sped away up the road, leaving a cloud of dusty sand in his wake.

Edward screamed out across the grass, his voice bleeding with anger and frustration, as Thomas held him tightly. He could feel Edward’s frantic breathing against his chest and could tell that his own body was shaking with adrenaline and anger. He pressed his face into the back of Edward’s neck, but Edward continued to let out choking, angry gasps as he gripped Thomas’ arms.

“I hate him. I hate him,” he kept repeating, his voice pained.

“I know,” was all he could say in return.

Edward eventually sagged against him, losing all of the adrenaline from his body. He reached up to touch his face, and when he brought his hand back down, Thomas could see it was red with his blood.

“Let’s go inside, Edward, you’re bleeding.”

Edward didn’t say anything, just followed Thomas into the house and back into the kitchen. He stood in the middle of the room, nose and mouth dripping with blood, his eyebrows still pulled together in distress, but he didn’t say anything or move to sit down. Thomas pulled out the first towel he found, wet it, and moved across the room to stand in front of Edward. 

When he placed one hand against the back of Edward’s head to steady him, Edward jerked back, “I can do it,” he said, his voice just sharper than usual.

“Let me,” Thomas pleaded softly as he stood with his hand hovering between them, holding the warm cloth, waiting for permission. When he didn’t get it, he tried again, “I’m sure you can do it, love, but I’m a trained medic, remember? And I want to help, so let me.”

Edward’s shoulders slumped in defeat then, and Thomas took that as his cue to start. He began wiping the blood off his nose and lip and chin, some of it already having dried, and then took a better look at the actual injuries. Edward’s lip was cut rather badly, but it would heal fine; his nose, too, didn’t appear to actually be broken which was a relief, though as Thomas told these things to Edward, he just nodded solemnly. Thomas grabbed a dry cloth and pressed it beneath Edward’s nose, moving him over until he sat next to the window, head tilted back to stop the bleeding. While Edward sat with his head resting against the glass, Thomas began washing the blood out of the other cloth, heart feeling sick as he watched the blood swirl out down the sink. He took that moment to collect himself and finally begin to calm his own heartrate from the ordeal and could sense Edward trying to do the same across the room. 

Once satisfied that he had gotten the stain out, he moved over to sit with Edward, placing his hand on the other man’s knee. He could see that Edward’s eyes were glassy with tears, and he was blinking hard to keep them away, but Thomas didn’t mention it at all, letting Edward have some control over the moment. When he felt like it had been long enough for the bleeding to stop, he placed his hand over Edward’s where he was gripping the cloth and moved it away, and when no more blood came, Thomas got up and washed that cloth out as well. 

As he sat back down and put his hand back on Edward’s knee, he finally spoke up, “I think we should talk about it.”

Edward sighed deeply but nodded and placed his hand over Thomas’, “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

\---

The pair of them walked along the coastline, the gray ocean roaring around them as their feet dug into the sand. It was colder than the day before and Thomas’ feet were already frozen beneath them, but he appreciated the freshness of the air and knew that Edward did as well.  
Edward has his hand curled tight around Thomas’ arm, but all of his relaxed posture had left him, and his head was high and stiff. His lips betrayed him, however, all cut and bruised and crimson.

“I should have told you; I realize that now, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, and I’m still not…”

“Tell me what,” Thomas prompted, still confused by everything.

“That night, when I had dinner with the Crawley family, I talked with Lady Mary quite a lot about the Downton estate and management in general. I was trained my whole life before the war to be able to manage my parent’s estate, you know, and I honestly felt ready to do it. I enjoyed that sort of thing and felt like I could succeed, but I hadn’t talked to anyone about it in years. Talking to her got me thinking about it again, though. It’s much too late for my parent’s estate, that was turned over to Jack as soon as I was injured, but I just began thinking that maybe I could still succeed at something in that regard. When my parents told me they were planning on selling this place, I didn’t even think about it in that way at first, but then I began to consider the idea of trying to manage it myself, just to see if I could still do it. I honestly have no idea whether or not it would be possible; it would take a lot of help, for sure, but I asked my mother last month if I could manage it. She didn’t necessarily agree, but she and my father have been considering the idea and have temporarily called off the sale, which has since angered my brother to no end. To him, the sale of this property was a guaranteed good source of income, whereas, in his eyes, letting me manage it would guarantee financial ruin for the whole family. In a way he is right, it would be a risk, but I should have just as much of a say in the affairs of this as he does, and that also angers him. I should have just dropped it, I knew it would get to him, but I just couldn’t. I want to prove myself, and I don’t want him to always win…” Edward let out a long breath after getting that all off his chest, and Thomas just stared at him with wide eyes, not having expected that at all.

“Do you think your parents will agree to it?”

“I’ve no idea, Thomas. I think they also believe I will fail, but I also know my mother wants so badly to please me, to let me lead a normal life. She never seems to know how, and this would be a way, but with Jack in their ear… I’m not very hopeful now,” Edward gripped his arm tighter, “I apologize for getting you involved in this whole mess. I should never have brought you here once I knew how angry Jack had become about it all…”

“Don’t say that. I always want to be by your side.”

Edward stopped walking at that and turned towards Thomas slightly before seeming to change his mind and sitting down on the dry, chilled sand, pulling Thomas down to sit next to him and then leaning against his shoulder. “He knows about us, now,” he said quietly.

Thomas could hear the dread in the other man’s voice, and he too was feeling awfully unsettled about it all. It was undoubtedly a dangerous state to be in, but the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Jack couldn’t get to then, at least not yet, “He can’t prove anything.”

“He knows about me, he has for years, I imagine it wouldn’t be hard to prove,” Edward spat bitterly, and Thomas could hear years of his own feelings echoed in that statement.

“But he doesn’t know me.”

Edward frowned at that, but after a minute conceded, “No… he doesn’t.”

“You said you were coming here with a friend and so you have. I think that’s perfectly reasonable, and he can’t prove that we’re anything more,” Thomas leaned his head against Edward’s where it rested on his shoulder, “In fact, I think it would be rather more unseemly if you were here alone with a woman…”

“I suppose,” but then he shook his head and leant back against the sand, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes, “I don’t know if he’ll come back.”

Thomas had thought of this, too, and it admittedly did worry him quite a bit, “We can stay or leave, it’s up to you.”

Edward just lay there for a minute with Thomas watching him, hands pressing harder against his eyes, “I want to stay. I don’t want to give him everything he wants.”

“Then we’ll stay. If he comes again, we just won’t give him any reason to doubt us.”

Edward reached out his hand then until it landed on Thomas’ forearm and gripped so tightly it was almost painful, “I’m glad you’re here, duck,” he whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: sexual content

They stayed on edge the whole rest of the day, though they both seemed to be trying to distract themselves from the events of the morning. They spent the afternoon sitting by the beach, Thomas watching the seagulls and describing them to Edward, and then they spent the evening inside, reading and talking while close together on the couch. By the time it was dark, Edward had laid out in front of the fire, arms stretched above his head, with an empty glass and a bottle of black current wine only two-thirds full beside him. Thomas sat down beside him and placed his hand on the other man’s chest, feeling his sated heartbeat beneath his thin shirt, and filled up Edward’s glass again for himself. It was sweet on his tongue, almost two sweet, but it seemed to match the fire and the quiet of the evening and he enjoyed it. Edward’s lips were already stained with the drink, and Thomas imagined his mouth would still ring with sweetness. After finishing off his glass, he bent down and kissed Edward languidly.

He was right; Edward’s tongue was still tinged with wine and Thomas moaned softly into the kiss, hands running slowly along Edward’s sides as he did. When he pulled back, he still stayed close, leaning on his elbow above Edward’s shoulder, enough that their noses still almost touched. Edward reached up and began to trace Thomas’ face just as he had done at the beginning on the roof, and Thomas found it to be more intoxicating than the wine. He closed his eyes as Edward’s fingers dipped across his cheekbones and down across his nose and over his eyelids and forehead and lips. Edward’s hands wondered for a long time and Thomas stayed still, letting him map out the contours of his face without hurry. His skin tingled with it, almost electrified, and Edward seemed to know because he kept running the tips of his fingers right across his lips, making him gasp each time despite the lightness of the touch.

“I want you,” Edward breathed into him, so quiet that even right next to him Thomas almost didn’t hear.

It sent shivers down his skin and his heart longed for it so much that he felt in pain, but he pulled back nevertheless, drawing in a cool breath, “Your brother…”

Edward dropped his hand from Thomas then, and his face grew bitter as he turned away, “I had finally almost forgotten…” He stayed that way for a moment, hands now limp at his sides, before appearing to have another consideration, “It’s dark out, isn’t it.”

“Yes,” Thomas replied softly, hands still grazing Edward’s sides despite himself.

“How long has it been dark for?”

“Almost an hour and a half, I’d say.”

“He won’t be coming tonight,” Edward said decisively, “If he hasn’t come yet, he won’t be coming. On the other side of the hill, the road banks cliffs the whole way to town. Jack won’t risk his life over us; I think that’s where he draws the line.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t say he won’t come in the morning, but he won’t come now in the dark.”

If it was good enough for Edward, it was good enough for Thomas, and so he leaned back down and began to kiss Edward once more until they were both out of breath and Edward was gasping at his neck.

“Take me to bed, Thomas, please,” he gasped, and this time Thomas didn’t stop himself. 

He led them both upstairs and into the bedroom, pressing Edward up against the wall as soon as they entered and beginning to kiss firmly down his neck as he began to undo his shirt. Edward groaned as Thomas’ hips pressed into his, already aroused. Once both their shirts were off, Thomas wrapped his bare arms around Edward’s back, leaning closer still as Edward’s strong arms wrapped around him, too.

“What would you like, love,” Thomas breathed against his shoulder.

Edward pulled back at that, hands beginning to run through his hair, his expression looking almost distressed as he stumbled over words, “I want- if you’re willing…. Oh god, I don’t know how to ask this.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to you, Edward. I meant it.”

Edward shook his head still, “Nothing’s ever gone this far before…”

Thomas rubbed his thumbs into Edward’s bare shoulders, trying to get him to relax, and tried asking again, “What is it that you’d like?”

Edward ran his hands through his hair one last time before dropping them down to cover Thomas’ where they rested on his own collarbone. “I want to be inside of you, if you’re willing to give that,” he finally said, face burning red but not backing down.

Thomas could hear his own sharp breath of surprise, and his chest constricted tightly around his heart because no one had ever asked him for that, at least not in that way. It had always been more of a demand, to do the thing ‘real men’ wouldn’t, but the way Edward asked, it made it seem reverent.

“Yes,” he answered, gripping Edward’s hands in his, “Yes, I would like that,” not quite prepared for how breathy his own voice sounded. Edward’s cheeks were almost flaming, and he looked so close to terrified when Thomas answered that had he not been the one to ask, Thomas would have stopped them there. “Are you sure, though?” Thomas asked softly, trying to reign in his breathing.

“Yes, I just have no idea… how…” Edward cringed, blushing further than Thomas thought possible.

“Alright,” Thomas said, though his own stomach was fluttering wildly as well. It had been so unbearably long since he had been with another man in this way, although he had been dreaming about it for what felt like half a lifetime. He ran his hand up and down Edward’s bare chest, feeling his shaky pulse, “It’s not all so complicated, you’ll just have to trust me.”

“I always trust you,” Edward breathed, catching Thomas so off guard that he stood shocked long enough for Edward to find his face and kiss him again.

“Let’s move to the bed.”

Thomas led Edward over to the bed in the corner of the room, stopping to fetch the jar of petroleum jelly from his bag and set it on the nightstand for later. He pushed Edward onto his back and then laid out beside him, his leg slung between Edward’s. They kissed slowly, Edward running his hands through Thomas’ ungelled hair and lifting his hips up slightly to press against Thomas’ leg. Thomas then let his mouth wander, kissing along Edward’s neck and collarbones, making the other man gasp and squirm beneath him. After he felt like Edward’s nerves had finally calmed, he moved to unbutton Edward’s trousers, skating his fingers along the newly exposed skin of his stomach before working them off. His own trousers soon followed and then they were completely bare, skin pressing against skin from their heads to their feet. Thomas moved to lay atop Edward, his thighs straddling the other man’s hips. They just rutted together for a while, unhurried, before Edward spoke again.

“I don’t quite know where to go from here.”

“I’ve got you,” Thomas kissed against his chest before reaching up and grabbing the jelly off of the nightstand. He covered his fingers with it before leaning over Edward and bracing himself with one arm while reaching his other hand back behind him. He circled his fingers around his hole while still rutting against Edward before finally pressing in slowly with one finger. He breathed in deeply and pressed his face into the crook of Edward’s neck as he felt the familiar sting and stretch. After pressing in as far as he could, he began to work his finger in and out of his body, opening himself up. 

Edward could feel him moving above him and his hands stopped on Thomas’ shoulder blades, “What are you doing?”

Thomas didn’t know how to put it to words without sounding crass, so he just nodded into Edward’s shoulder and said, “You can feel.”

Edward slid his hand down Thomas’ back until he reached where Thomas’ hand was, “Oh,” he said in surprise and then breathier, “Oh…” in realization. “May I…? Or is that…”

“If you’d like.” Thomas hadn’t known how to ask that question before, but his arousal only ached more as Edward asked it.

He removed the hand that had been inside him then and sat back, opening the jar of jelly again and scooping out a generous amount before taking Edward’s right hand and spreading it across his fingers. He lay forward again and guided Edward’s fingers back behind him.

“You can… um… you can add two,” Thomas could feel his whole body shaking, “but slowly.”

Edward followed Thomas request and slowly pressed in two of his fingers. Thomas moaned at the deep sensation, almost losing himself then at how good it felt and how glad he was that it was Edward. Once he took a few deep breathes, he began to move slightly against Edward’s fingers, before Edward understood and began to move them himself. After a few minutes he had Edward add a third finger, gasping more at the stretch and warmth and fullness inside him, before finally telling him that he was ready.

Thomas positioned himself over Edward’s arousal and slowly sank down, watching as Edward’s eyes blew wide and head tilted back into the pillow, “My god, Thomas,” he gasped, arms already shaking where they held his hips, “I had no idea… I had no idea it could be this good.”

Thomas rested his forehead against Edward’s as he began to slowly move. He felt like he was in a fever dream, so full and in ecstasy already, listening to the sounds Edward was making beneath him. Edward’s hands were roaming his chest and he was pressing up into Thomas fiercely, like he couldn’t ever be satisfied, and Thomas was pressing down to meet him, feeling like he could cry with the beauty and depth of it all. Edward pulled Thomas down until they were chest to chest, and Thomas could feel Edward’s breaths heaving beneath him. He found himself gasping nonsense into Edward’s ear about how good he felt and how he looked like a god and how Thomas wanted nothing more than to be with him forever, and Edward just kept gasping back by repeating Thomas’ name like it was the answer to everything.

They both came like that, grasping at each other like they were the last things on earth, and Edward stayed inside of him as they each caught their breath. When he finally pulled out, Thomas shuddered deeply and Edward ran his hands through his hair and down his back, soothing what had just been white hot. Thomas could feel the remains of Edward’s orgasm inside him and between his legs, and he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to put into words how connected and wanted and loved that made him feel, so just breathed against Edward’s shoulder and waited for his body to stop shaking. 

\---

They took a bath afterwards, and then went to bed, Edward’s arms wrapped around his chest as they slept, and in the morning, they woke up early to have some tea and bread and take a walk before having to part. Thomas could still feel the ache from the night before and it soothed him to know it was all real. When he told Edward as much, Edward just kissed him senseless until the tea kettle whistled.

The wind was calm for the first time since they had arrived at the sea and therefore the waves were calm as well, so after walking along the shore for a while, they stepped out of their socks and shoes, rolled up their trousers past their ankles, and stood in the chilly water. Edward embraced him as they did so, resting his head atop Thomas’ shoulder, and Thomas’ hand curled tightly around the fabric of his sweater, already not wanting to let go.

“I feel so safe when I’m with you, duck, I don’t even know how to say it properly.”

Thomas had been feeling that way since they’d met, and he still didn’t know how to say it either, so he just pulled Edward closer to him.

It would only be later, on his way home after saying goodbye to Edward and feeling sick already with his absence that he realized he knew exactly what it was. He was burning completely with love.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobia

As winter melted away and spring came into life, the house packed up to spend a month in London for the spring season. Thomas had been in good spirits since seeing Edward and was in a downright jovial mood to be seeing him again so soon. They arrived in London near the end of March on what ended up being the first warm day of the year. It was one of those odd mornings where everything still felt frosty in the shade but melted into bright warmth in the sun, the smell of fresh grass in the air and shiny puddles all along the sidewalk. He had called Edward before they left, and they had agreed to meet at Kensington Gardens Friday afternoon when the Crawleys would be visiting Aunt Rosamund until late in the evening, giving him the first three days of the family’s visit to make sure everything was running smoothly. 

When Friday finally arrived and the family was seen off, Thomas gave as many staff members the afternoon off as he could, wanting them all to enjoy the sun and city and feel as merry as he did, and then slipped as quickly as possible out into the streets. Once at the park, he bought a copy of the London Times and sat down on a bench near the round pond where they had agreed to meet to wait for the other.

Edward arrived soon, his cane sweeping through the gravel, the sound announcing his presence and making Thomas look up from his paper in time to call his name and pull him over towards the bench. Thomas could feel his face breaking out into a wide grin to match Edward’s and soon they were sitting closely on the bench, newspaper forgotten. They caught up on their lives over the past couple of weeks before Thomas brought up the topic that he’d been curious about since their last parting: the house.

Edward sighed deeply and his shoulders deflated, “Frankly, I’m about ready to give up on the whole affair as much as I hate to admit it. Jack is getting more riled up by the day and I fear it’ll turn nasty rather quickly…well, more so than it already is.”

Thomas thought about that for a while, feeling Edward’s sense of defeat in the way he turned his face away from Thomas, “I hope you know that I’d rather have you safe and here any day than for you to be hurt and with a house.”

“More than likely I’d be hurt and still without a house,” Edward mumbled, setting his chin in his hand.

“Then all the more reason to let it go I suppose…”

“I know.”

“But?” Thomas prodded, sensing that Edward hadn’t quite shared all of his thoughts on the matter.

“I’m bloody well sick and tired of Jack taking away the things I have a right to.”

Thomas didn’t have a reply for that, so he just sat in silence with Edward, watching the geese floating on the sparkling pond before offering to read Edward the day’s paper. He agreed but didn’t move, still faced the other way, head slumped into his palm.

\---

They met a few more times over the coming week and a half, each time desperately too short but far better than nothing, before a week of lavish parties kept Thomas too busy to head out. When he finally broke free, with just a couple of days left before he would be leaving London, it was a warm evening. The Crawleys had all retired early after dinner, and the staff had managed to clean up in time for everyone to have an hour or two to do as they pleased.

Thomas practically ran through the twilight streets, sacrificing his breath for time, having to hold the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing away in his endeavor to reach Edward quickly. When he finally reached Edward’s street, it was quiet, and the streetlamps were glowing in puddles of warm light. He was greeted at the door not by Mrs. Lawrence as usual but by Edward, who was dressed in a soft green jumper that complimented his eyes in a way that made Thomas’ heart twinge. 

“Mrs. Lawrence is away,” Edward said as a greeting.

“Oh? And when will she be back?”

“She’s gone to visit her nieces outside of Swindon, so I’d imagine not tonight.”

“Well.”

“Well indeed, Mr. Barrow,” Edward laughed, nudging Thomas with his shoulder, “Why don’t I make us some tea and we’ll go from there.”

Thomas agreed, and Edward put the kettle on to boil before returning to where Thomas was leaned against the kitchen wall. The lights were off; Edward probably hadn’t thought about it and Thomas didn’t want to bother, so as Edward came up to him, he leaned forward and pecked a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Edward smiled and moved his hands to Thomas’ waist, leaning forward again to continue the soft kiss. It was unhurried and Thomas began to lose himself in the quiet of the moment until he heard a thump at the window and his eyes shot open. He pulled back and then froze, his gaze locked on to the window where a man stood with his eyes shot wide open and his mouth agape in shock. Thomas felt his heart still and could tell that his face looked the same but for drastically different reasons. He felt stupid and sick and angry all at once and reached out to grip Edward’s arm tight enough to probably hurt.

“Oh god-“

“What?” Edward breathed, tensing with Thomas’ grip.

“Your brother - he’s – my god we’re stupid.”

“He’s what Thomas,” Edward demanded, his voice suddenly high with panic.

“He’s at the window,” Thomas whispered tearing his eyes away from where Jack was pressed up to the glass and ducking further into the darkness of the kitchen.

Edward whipped around and as Jack saw him, he sprinted off down the street. “He just ran off,” Thomas whispered, hearing the panic in his own voice.

“You need to go.”

“So do you!”

“He already knows me, Thomas, there’s no escaping that. I won’t have you be caught here with me.” 

Edward was already pulling on his arm as Thomas tried to argue with him, his sense of panic rising, “I’m not just going to leave you here!”

“Yes, you are. What good does it do for us both to me arrested?”

“I-“

“No,” Edward cut him off, forcing him towards the door, “You’ve got to leave.”

When Thomas still didn’t move Edward pushed him hard in the chest, shocking him with his force, “Get out!” He then opened the door and pushed Thomas even harder out into the street, “Get out!”

Thomas’ mind seemed to shut off at the sound of Edward’s unadulterated fear, and he took off sprinting. He ran so fast that he couldn’t get enough air back into his lungs and felt as though he was going to faint, but he pushed himself to keep going until he could see the Crawley residence at the end of their street. He ducked off into an alley and slumped against the wall, feeling his heart race and head pound. It was only when he could breathe again that he realized he should have waited somewhere by Edward’s flat to see what would happen. Realizing there was a chance now that he would never know, he let out a yell and slammed his hand against the brick wall, hard enough to make his eyes water and, if he wasn’t careful, to break a bone. Once his eyes started watering, though, he found that he couldn’t stop, and soon he was leaned up against the wall sobbing with everything he had in him, feeling an intractable sense of betrayal and fury engulf him. 

\---

He stayed like that for a long while, just slumped against the cool bricks, until the city clocks rang midnight and he knew he needed to get back. He wiped at his face with a handkerchief and tried to steady his breathing, already beginning to feel numb with the overwhelming emotions building inside of him. Thomas made his way down the street and slipped quietly through the back door of the Crawley residence. The lights were still on, but no one was around at the moment, so Thomas took off his coat and hat and decided to use the quiet moment to make some tea, hoping it would give him a sense of reason on what to do next.

As he was waiting for the water to boil, trying to take in calming breaths, he heard a soft noise behind him and glanced back to see Mrs. Hughes wandering down the hallway.

“Good evening, Mr. Barrow,” she said chipperly, but when he didn’t reply she poked her head into the kitchen and looked at him, her face falling into concern as she did so, “Thomas? Are you alright?”

He opened his mouth to try and say something but wasn’t sure what on earth to say. Instead he found himself standing there with his mouth half opened, a wild look in his eyes. Mrs. Hughes walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, running it up and down his arm slowly, waiting him patiently for him to gather his thoughts, but when he tried to speak again, he only managed to let out a desperate choking sound.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Hughes clucked soothingly, “Why don’t you go situate yourself in my sitting room. I’ll bring the tea in just a minute.”

Thomas nodded, unsure of what else to do and sensing that at this point it was more of a requirement than an offer. He sat down on a small sofa against the wall and looked despondently at the clock opposite, watching the seconds slowly tick by as he waited for Mrs. Hughes. When she entered, she set the teapot down to seep and came to sit beside him, placing her hand back on his arm where it had just been, grounding him slightly.

“Why don’t you try and start from the beginning?”

It took him a moment to think of where the beginning was and what exactly he wanted to say, but once he started talking, he felt the words pour out of him. By the time he reached the night’s events, he could tell that his cheeks were once again salty with tears, and his chest was quivering in an effort to keep from absolutely sobbing. 

Mrs. Hughes pulled him against her side, letting his head rest against her shoulder and putting a hand on his hair. “Oh child,” she soothed, though her voice had grown tight with worry, “I’m afraid I don’t have many comforting words for you right now, but I’d like to hope that not all is truly lost…”

“How is it not?”

Mrs. Hughes sighed and pulled him closer, speaking after a minute “I know you don’t care for religion, and I know good and well why. I wouldn’t say I’m the holiest of women out their either, but sometimes it has its moments. There is a verse in the Bible where God says ‘I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future’ and I’d like to think that’s true.”

“He’s done a right shoddy job of planning so far, then.”

He heard Mrs. Hughes sigh, but he could hear the note of laughter in it, “Well I won’t preach to you anymore, but I will think on what you’ve told me and try to come up with something more concrete to be done, and I hope you’ll let me know if there is anything more I can do. I want you to be happy, Thomas,” She said sincerely, “You’ve grown into a wonderful man and I couldn’t be prouder of you for it.”

Thomas didn’t say anything more, but her words hadn’t fallen onto deaf ears. After letting him rest a while longer, Mrs. Hughes finally sent him off to bed with a promise to tell Lady Mary the next morning that he’d developed a fever and wouldn’t be able to work.

As he lay in bed, replaying the nights events endlessly in his head and feeling his heart grow ever sicker with worry, he tried to think more on Mrs. Hughes advice and suddenly found himself praying for the first time since the war. He couldn’t make himself pray to God, but he looked out the window into the dark city and prayed that someone had a plan for them better than what they’d been given so far.


	16. Chapter 16

Thomas woke up the next morning to a soft knocking on his door. His head pounded as he sat up, and his eyes felt scratchy and swollen from the night before. He opened the door still in his nightclothes to find Ms. Baxter standing on the other side with a tray of toast and jam and a sympathetic look on her face. She set the tray down on the dresser near the door and immediately reached to pull Thomas into her arms.

“Mrs. Hughes told me this morning what happened.”

Thomas tensed at that, but Phyllis was already one step ahead of him, “She promised that she only told me, but she thought I might be more comforting than she was able to be. I’m not sure that she’s right, but I wanted to see you before I went up to see her Ladyship.”

Thomas just nodded into her shoulder and then pulled away to sit back down on his bed. Phyllis tried to hand him the tray, but his stomach felt sick just looking at it, so he gave it back and promised to try and eat later. He wasn’t sure what to say, and she didn’t seem to know either; she leaned against the dresser and wrung her hands in front of her, looking at him and biting her lip.

Just as she seemed ready to leave him and get to work, Thomas decided to voice the thought he’d been unable to get out of his head since late last night.

“I’ll come back by at lunch-“

“I never told him that I love him.”

“What?” Phyllis’ head shot up, looking at him with surprise, not sure she had heard him right.

“I never told him that I love him, and now I might never get the chance.”

Phyllis was still for a second before replying, “I’m sure he knows.”

“There is a difference between thinking you know and hearing the words,” Thomas said stoically. He was looking down at his own hands, but when he looked up Phyllis was looking hard at the ceiling, her shoulders tense, “I hope you’ve told Mr. Mosely how you feel,” he said almost pleadingly, realizing what her look probably meant. 

Phyllis looked away, avoiding his gaze, and Thomas didn’t press the issue, though he wanted to, “I’ll eat the toast,” he sighed quietly.

“I’ll come by at lunch,” Phyllis said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying to work.

\---

The hours passed slowly but the days quickly and soon the household was back at Downton. Thomas grew more disconsolate by the day; he could feel himself spiraling and it frightened him, but he kept up with work as usual, albeit quieter and with deeper lines around his eyes. He hadn’t heard a single word about Edward, either. At Mrs. Hughes’ wise suggestion, he’d taken to reading the society section of the paper as well as the society newsletters, but nothing had appeared in them yet, and he wasn’t sure if anything would. He’d also taken to sitting up on the roof whenever he got the chance. He hadn’t been up since the first time with Edward, but he found himself there often now in the early mornings just after daybreak when the air was still cool and could clear his head. There was a whole pile of crushed cigarettes on the roof tiles now, and if he’d been thinking clearly, he would have realized what a terrible idea that was; he was liable to burn down the whole house with his smoking habits, but he wasn’t thinking clearly.

He could see why Edward liked sitting up in high places, though. It felt like no one could reach him up on the roof and the world was quiet except for the wind and the occasional songbird. He began to enjoy early morning sunrises in a way that he hadn’t for many years, too, but he also always felt Edward’s presence with him while he sat against the grey stones and looked out over the long lawn. Thomas couldn’t decide if it was better or worse to think about Edward so deeply every morning, but he couldn’t stop and so he carried on climbing up to the roof as often as his schedule allowed.

The rest of the staff seemed to notice that something was off, but no one bothered him about it. They were all used to his moods at this point, anyways. There was one comment from Andy about a sudden lack of letters from London, but Mrs. Hughes told him to mind his own letters, and no one mentioned it again.

Three weeks in, Thomas did finally receive a letter from Edward’s address, and his heart beat wildly all through breakfast making him feel queasy. When he opened it however, it was only from Mrs. Lawrence asking if he knew anything about where Edward had gone. He didn’t know what to write back because he didn’t know where Edward had gone either, so he let it rest on his desk for two days before finally feeling guilty enough to write back that he also didn’t know. The letter only fueled his ill moods further by confirming that Edward was indeed not a home, and most likely arrested. He sat up late that night imagining the stress and degradation of a London police station or jail cell, and then tried to imagine being in either of those places if he couldn’t see. It didn’t serve his heart or mind well.

\---

Just a day later, Phyllis knocked on his door, society circular in hand.

“Lady Mary received this. It has news about Edward. She read it this morning as I was doing her hair. I asked if I could have it… saw an article on curling irons that I said I wanted to read.”

“Did you read the article on Edward?” Thomas asked, feeling unsteady and suddenly chilled.

“Not an article really, just a snippet…but yes,” Phyllis replied reluctantly, making Thomas’ heart sink further.

He took the paper from her and began to read as she stated aloud what was written, “It says that he was arrested a few weeks ago on charges of gross indecency and will be on trial beginning the day after tomorrow,” She paused, giving him a minute to read and process the words himself before laying a hand over his where it lay on the page, “I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas kept the page in his pocket all day, mind clouded with frustration and sadness and a lack of ideas on how he could help. He always used to have ideas, in every situation, but he felt like they’d all run dry when he needed them most.

\---

The news made it into the society column of the paper the next day. Her Ladyship read it aloud at the breakfast table in with audible shock, and Lady Mary and Tom Branson both looked at him across the room with wide, questioning eyes. He did his best to avoid their gaze, but his hands were unsteady after that and he could tell that his face was flushed.

He almost knew what would come next, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when Lady Mary knocked on his pantry door just an hour later.

“Good morning, Mr. Barrow,” she greeted him in her usual businesslike tone.

He stood up to greet her as well, “Good morning, Milady.”

She seemed unsure of what exactly to say next, “From this morning’s breakfast conversation you’re aware that Mr. Courtenay, has been- well- he’s been arrested.”

“Yes, Milady,” he replied stiffly.

“You’re his friend.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“And he’s been charged with gross indecency.”

Thomas hesitated but then nodded.

“Mr. Barrow, might I be correct in assuming that the two of you were rather… shall we say, closer than most friends.”

Thomas didn’t answer that. He didn’t think there was really a right answer, not to Lady Mary, or if there was, he didn’t know it.

“I’m not here to catch you out, Mr. Barrow. I think you and I both know it’s much too late for that. I’m just trying to assess the situation.”

She seemed both slightly embarrassed and frustrated now, so he decided it couldn’t do him much more harm to be honest, “Yes… we were, as you say, rather closer than most friends.”

“I see,” she said matter-of-factly, though began to pace around his room thinking. “I think I should contact his mother. I’d like to learn more about the situation he’s in right now.”

Thomas looked at her in surprise, and she matched his look with a piercing stare, “I’m not so unkind as you may think, Mr. Barrow. And I have my own selfish reasons. I enjoyed his company greatly while he was here, and I’d hate to see him locked away.”

\---

To Thomas’ disbelief, Lady Mary called Edward’s mother in the afternoon and was on a train to London by evening, determined to attend the trial herself. Thomas had tried to insist on going himself, but Lady Mary had strictly forbidden it. While he chafed at that, she said neither she nor likely Edward would ever forgive him if he went, was recognized, and subsequently arrested, and he knew that unfortunately she was right about the matter, as much as it sickened him.

Instead, he went up onto the roof, listened to the wind, thought about Edwards hands and smile and flyaway hair, and tried not to burn the Abbey down.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no claims of historical accuracy.  
Also TW: homophobia, "conversion therapy"

By the next afternoon Lady Mary apparently realized that she might be a little in over her head because she called back to Downton and requested another suitcase and Mrs. Baxter to be put on the next train to London. Apparently, it was all going to take longer than she’d thought.

This didn’t help Thomas’ nerves at all. He’d been serving dinner when the call came, so Mrs. Hughes answered, and she didn’t have much to say about the whole affair, not quite willing to press Lady Mary on the issue. Thomas would have liked to press, but it was probably better that he wasn’t around to, however much it made him feel like he was choking

\---

The next evening, he was lucky that the telephone rang while he wasn’t at dinner, or really that it rang at all. This time though it was not Lady Mary but Phyllis rather, which meant that he would have to press her to be frank with him but that he could press. 

“I wouldn’t give up hope,” her soft voice filtered through the line, but by the way she paused at the end, not exhaling, he knew that wasn’t the whole of it.

“But?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, so all he could hear was the dull static of the line. “It was awful, Thomas,” she replied finally, voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t know what to say then, his voice flapping oven and closed like fish sprawled out on land, but his grip on the telephone tightened until his wrist began to cramp. “How so?”

“Lady Mary gave a testimony in his favor.”

“Truly? And it went poorly?”

“No, that went well I think…” She sighed into the phone, “His brother testified against him though. It was… shameful.”

“Shameful for Edward, you mean?”

“No love, though I suppose the court may have thought so, but I meant shameful on the part of his brother. Their mother was there, and she testified in his favor as well. I think that might be what saves him really, but she wouldn’t look at either of them, Thomas. She sat in the front row and refused to look at both of her sons the whole time, it was awful.”

Thomas bit his lip thinking about that. He could picture her, shamed and disgraced by both her sons. One for ruining the family and one for apparently ruining himself.

Phyllis continued, “They’ll read the verdict in the morning. I don’t envy Edward right now, but I wouldn’t give up hope, Thomas. His mother’s testimony was rather convincing; she read out his old diary and letters about the girls he’d adored and tallied out the brothers’ rivalry for the jury. Lady Mary’s was rather effective as well, I think. The court also didn’t seem convinced that a blind man could be involved in such things, or even if he was what they should do with him.”

Thomas had never felt so hopeful for someone else’s low expectations of Edward. He hoped she was right and that the lawyers and judge would deem prison unsuitable for Edward, or that they would just believe his mother and not get even that far. “You’ll call in the morning?” he asked when it was clear that she didn’t have more news to report.

“Of course.”

\---

He spent all of the next morning with his heart in his throat before Mrs. Baxter called just before he was to serve a luncheon for Lady Crawley and a small group of her friends. He had been lightheaded and off-balance all morning, and by the time the phone actually rang his hands were shaking so bad he dropped the receiver when he first tried to answer.

“Take a deep breath,” was all he heard Phyllis say on the other line when he answered, and he was so out of his head by that point that he just did as she said. “It’s not a perfect answer, but it could have been so much worse.”

“Please just tell me.”

“They didn’t know what to do with someone who was blind, so they’re sending him to a kind of sanitarium outside of Sunderland where he’ll be required to meet with a psychologist every few days.”

“For how long?”

“Three to six months, depending on his improvement and the psychologist’s evaluation.”

It wasn’t a death sentence, Thomas knew that, it wasn’t even close compared to how things could have turned out, but he still felt his throat close up with tears now that he knew Edward’s fate was sealed. Having tried medical interventions on himself before, the thought of a psychologist poking and prodding through Edward’s thoughts day after day made him feel physically ill.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

He hung up on her, and then immediately felt worse, but he figured she would understand.


	18. Chapter 18

For the first week, Thomas was on edge. He kept thinking about Edward, locked away and at the mercy of a psychologist who was telling him who knows what about sicknesses of the mind or his morals or sins. Thomas had well enough experience with such things, and it hadn’t done him any good. The supposed cure just led to sickness where there wasn’t any before. 

It frustrated him as well that Edward had been sent to a sanitarium; sanitariums were for healing and Thomas very much doubted that Edward would do any kind of healing, as if he needed it. He thought about writing, but he worried that it would only serve to endanger Edward or himself, so he refrained. Eventually he confided in Phyllis, and she let him write a letter to the sanitarium under her name, just filled with small platitudes and anecdotes about life in Downton. He hoped Edward would still realize it was him, but when he never received a reply, he realized that Edward likely wasn’t given the privilege of having someone read out letters to him and help write replies, so Thomas stopped trying.

He’d already gotten used to the undercurrent of nausea that stuck with him each day, and as the weeks dragged on, it didn’t lessen, but it didn’t get worse either. He knew where Edward was and simultaneously knew that there was not a thing he could do but wait.

\---

Lady Mary didn’t take it as lightly, however. She wasn’t used to unfairness, and it seemed to truly infuriate her. For the first few days after she was back from London, she snapped more than usual at just about everyone in the house and wore her dramatic frown with a sense of deep purpose. While Mr. Talbot and Lord Grantham just let her be, Her Ladyship quickly grew tired of Mary’s complaints and said that it wasn’t her problem to worry about.

They did however invite the Courtenays to stay for a few days, which made Thomas’ blood boil until he overhead Mary say that Jack was not to be invited. The Courtenays refused the offer three times before finally giving in, and when they did come, it wasn’t much of an affair. The countess looked depressed and barely ate or spoke for the entire two days, and the earl seemed at a loss of what to do to make any of it better. After a brief mention of her two sons, she didn’t bring either of them up again.

Thomas tried to avoid making eye contact with them as much as was professionally possible, sure that they would somehow know he was the man who gave their son a sentence and left him to face it alone, but they didn’t seem to know at all, and Thomas couldn’t image how they would. 

\---

By the end of the first month, the Crawleys headed back to London for a few weeks, and it felt strange to not feel excited at the prospect. Walking alone through the streets of London only served to open old wounds.

In the evenings, he took long walks through Regent’s park and in front of Edward’s flat. He stopped outside for quite a while and through the windows he could see Mrs. Lawrence and a young couple who must be the new tenants all in the kitchen. He thought about knocking on the door, he wanted to thank Mrs. Lawrence for her kindness to Edward and also see if she had any of his belongings still, but he wasn’t sure if she knew still what had really happened to him, and he didn’t want to say anything in front of the young tenants.

Thomas stayed awake late into the night thinking about the flat however and eventually decided he’d better return before the household left London or he’d regret it. It took him a few days to gather up the courage, but a few days later, he stood in front of the flat again, checking in the windows first to make sure he couldn’t see the couple, and knocked on the door.

After a moment Mrs. Lawrence answered and she looked shocked only for a second before quickly ushering him inside.

“Mr. Barrow,” she whispered, “I suppose I should have expected you might come. I would be careful not to be seen around here, though. I don’t know who all might recognize you.”

He doubted anyone would recognize him, but her worry did give him a kind of confirmation, “You know what happened then?”

“Yes,” she said, not offering a judgement on how she felt about it one way or another but by the way she sighed he could tell she thought it unfortunate, “the police came ‘round eventually to collect some of his things for the investigation, took all his papers.”

“Are his other things still here?”

“He didn’t have much, but I’ve got the rest packed up. I’m not sure if he’ll ever be back, but it felt wrong to sell it or leave it out for anyone’s taking. He was such a sweet lad, you know.”

He nodded and then bit his lip, “Would you mind if I took a look?”

“You’ll be seeing him again, then?”

He faltered, suddenly unsure of himself, but eventually replied, “I think so.”

“Alright.” 

She motioned him to come in further and he waited in the kitchen as she made her way down the hall, coming back with an old box filled with a few books in braille, a pair of dusty shoes, some of his clothes neatly folded on top, and a few other small items that used to reside in his room upstairs. 

Thomas touched them all gingerly; it felt like the kind of thing you would do after someone died, which did nothing to ease his nerves. Mrs. Lawrence must have seen him keep looking up the stairs as well, because she finally said, “They’re up for the night I believe. I wouldn’t worry about them coming down,” which was a small comfort.

Eventually he decided that he shouldn’t take much. It would be difficult to explain if he came back from London needing to pack another case for himself, so he picked up all the books and two worn woolen jumpers that he’d seen Edward wear before and put everything else carefully back in the box.

He thanked Mrs. Lawrence for the things and also for her assistance in writing letters back and worth over the past many months, but she wouldn’t accept the thanks, instead clucking her tongue and making him promise to write if he ever did meet Edward again.

\---

Word about Thomas and Edward seemed to spread slowly around Downton, which he was thankful for. He had reached a point in his life that he trusted Mrs. Baxter and Mrs. Hughes enough to know they hadn’t told anyone, but others must have overheard, because late one evening he sat down in the servants’ hall nearby to Anna, and when everyone else seemed distracted, she leaned over and spoke to his quietly.

“I know that I shouldn’t know what’s happened, but I do, and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry it has.”

He mumbled a quiet thanks, and she said that if she could help in any way, she would. He wasn’t sure what anyone could do to help, so he changed the subject, but after a while she drew him back to Edward.

“Do you know what he’ll do after he’s released?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where he’ll go? What he’ll do for work?”

Thomas had thought of these things, but he didn’t have answers for either. He doubted Edward would be taken back on to work, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do. As for where he’d go, Thomas figured he wasn’t likely to head straight back to London without having a job first and was even less likely to want to spend time as his family’s estate, especially if Jack were there. While Thomas of course wanted Edward here, he couldn’t really have him live at Downton.

Thomas told Anna that he wasn’t sure, and she nodded but continued, “You’ll want to be with him though?”

“Of course..” he breathed, trying to push down the frustration he felt, “But I don’t have any plans, and I doubt he does either.”

“He’s welcome to live with Mr. Bates and me for a while, until you can figure something out.”

Had Thomas been drinking the tea that was in front of him, he thought he likely would have chocked, “Is he? You’ve asked Mr. Bates?”

She didn’t answer that question but instead reached out and touched his hand, “We both know what it’s like to spend time imprisoned for things that weren’t your fault.”


	19. Chapter 19

After four and a half months, Thomas got a call early one morning.

“Downton Abbey, this is the butler speaking,”

“Good morning, this is Edward,” As if he needed to clarify. As if Thomas hadn’t recognized his voice at the first word. He felt as though his heart had stopped, his entire body stuck in place with the shock of it, but he heard the even, neutral tone of Edward on the other line and imagined that someone else might be listening, so he sucked in a deep breath and tried not to let his head or his heart get away from him.

“Yes, hello,” he said as calmly as possible even though he wanted to scream or to sob into the receiver.

“They’ve released me. I’ll be taking the first train in tomorrow,” and then he paused slightly, “If that’s alright, that is.”

Thomas had to close his eyes, overcome with relief, feeling a sense of warmth rush back into his fingers, “We’ll be expecting you.”

“Thank God,” Edward said, sounding strained, and then he hung up, leaving Thomas to stand stock still with his hand over his mouth, staring at the telephone until he heard one of the upstairs bells ring.

\---

He approached Anna later, stopped her in the hallway on her way to the boot room and asked if she could join him in the pantry for a moment.

“A few months back you said that if needed Edward Courtenay could stay with Mr. Bates and you for a while.” He had meant for it to be a question, but it came out like some sort of overthought plea.

“I remember,” she replied warmly.

“Does that offer still stand.”

“Of course.”

“He’s arriving in Downton tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said then, her eyebrows jumping in surprise.

Thomas felt himself deflate a little, “It’s okay, I can figure something else out.”

“No, it’s alright. Mr. Bates and I will just need to move some things around, make enough space for him.”

“I can help, if you need it.”

She looked like she was going to refuse, but then she nodded, “That would be nice. You can walk home with us this evening.”

\---

That afternoon, both Anna and he asked for a full day off the next day, and he supposed it was serendipity that it was going to be a Sunday, but even then Lady Mary didn’t see the need for both of them to take off and for both to use a full day until Anna wrung her hands a little and looked at Lady Mary pleadingly.

“It’s just, my brother passed away some time ago, and I was left the house you see. Mr. Bates and I want to sell it, but we have to clean out his old things. I’m afraid Mr. Bates isn’t quite up to the task.” Thomas looked at Anna in slight shock, how easily she was able to lie and how convincingly, but he quickly masked it to look just as sincere as she did.

“Andy can’t help? Or someone else?” Mary asked slightly incredulously.

“Mr. Barrow and I have worked together since we both arrived at Downton, Milady. I would feel most comfortable if he were to help me.”

Lady Mary looked at them both piercingly and then sighed heavily, her stiff posture relaxing some, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“We weren’t close, but he didn’t have anyone else to leave his property to.”

“How tragic,” Mary frowning slightly in the uncomfortable way people do when confronted with a misfortune that isn’t their own, but she agreed to let both of them off.

On their way back down the stairs, Thomas turned to Anna in surprise and slight amazement, “Do you have a brother?”

“I do, but he isn’t dead,” she smiled and laughed softly, looking at him with a gleam in her eye at getting away with something she shouldn’t have. He hadn’t ever seen that look on her, he thought, but it suited her.

“Thanks for that.”

“We’ve got to do what it takes, don’t we.”

\---

Thomas went back with the Bates’ that evening. Their cottage was small, but upstairs there was a small bedroom that housed an old dresser and wooden crib. Upon seeing that, Thomas looked up sharply at Anna, but she just said, “For the future,” and started moving the crib down the small hallway, and he pitched in to help. They then assembled a sleeping pallet as best they could, layering blankets and pillows and linens in silence, and by the end it made for a decent bed, worse still than the bed he had in the servant’s quarters, but it would suffice. 

“Do you know if he has any of his belongings with him?” Anna asked after they’d finished setting up the room.

“I’ve no idea. I’ll bring by a few things for him in the morning.”

“I could see if Mr. Bates has any clothes I could alter,” Anna suggested, but Thomas shook his head. As much as Thomas was thankful to Mr. Bates for agreeing to everything, he wouldn’t have Edward wearing his clothes, and it was unlikely they’d fit even with alterations anyways.

He followed Anna downstairs then, where Mr. Bates had put on some water to boil and was cutting slices of bread.

“Will you stay for tea, Mr. Barrow?” Bates asked, glancing up at him.

He stood awkwardly in the kitchen for a moment, feeling like he was intruding on a precious domestic ritual, but Anna set out three cups before he could answer, and he decided he had better get used to spending time around them in their home if Edward was going to stay for an undetermined length of time. He gave a quick thanks before joining them at the table.

Thomas wasn’t sure what to talk about, and Mr. Bates seemed not to know either, so most of the conversation fell on Anna’s shoulders until she suppressed a yawn, set her teacup by the sink, placed a quick hand on Mr. Bates shoulder, and went upstairs to bed. Now that just the two of them were left, Thomas took smaller sips of his tea, trying to minimize the space in which he would feel the need to talk, but he still ran out before Mr. Bates.

He sighed into his empty cup, “I know we’ve never gotten along well, Mr. Bates, but I’m very grateful to you for allowing Edward to stay.”

“It’s not as if he can stay in the Abbey,” Mr. Bates said matter-of-factly, “And I trust Anna’s judgement,” and then neither of them said much for the rest of the evening until Thomas made the walk back to Downton.

\---

Thomas barely slept at all that night. He kept thinking of all the things that might go wrong, all the things that could prevent Edward from coming, and all the ways both of them might have changed even if he does come. In ordinary times, four and half months was nothing, but for them it practically equated a new lifetime. A line drawn in the sand between the relative innocence before and the tragedy of after.

He woke up earlier than he would on a normal day and set out to the Bates’ cottage with a small case filled with the two jumpers he’d taken from Edward’s flat, a pair of trousers that would surely be too big but would at least be long enough, and a spare dress shirt. It wasn’t much but then again Thomas didn’t own much to give in the first place. 

Anna met him at the door just as Mr. Bates was leaving to walk to the Abbey. He wished them luck, and then Anna set about making some breakfast while Thomas made tea and waited for the clock to tell him when Edward’s train would arrive. Neither of them said much, a nervous energy hung thick in the air, and just after eight he decided to head out. The train likely wouldn’t arrive for another hour but walking to the station would at least give him something to do other than worry until he made himself ill.

\---

The train arrived on time, and Thomas stood, looking up and down the platform for any glimpse of the tall man he was waiting for, feeling an odd surge of déjà vu to happier times. When the crowd of people began to thin, Thomas finally spotted him, standing still with his cane tucked close to his body. He looked worried and exhausted and far too pale and all the other things that Thomas had spent nights worried about, but he was there, and Thomas had to bite a knuckle to keep from crying right there on the platform. He tried not to run towards him, but in seconds he was there, touching his shoulder with the slightest grace of his hand.

“Edward, it’s me, Thomas,” he said softly, though not quite managing to prevent his voice from cracking.

Back when things were normal, or as normal as they ever could have been, Edward would have given off a smile that could rival the sun even in summertime, but today his eyes blew wide and his mouth stayed firmly fixed in a worried frown.

“Thomas?” Edward repeated back to him, hand gliding through the air until it reached his left arm. He skidded his fingers down his sleeve until they reached Thomas’ glove and then they stopped and held on. Thomas realized that he was making sure it was really him, and his heart seized up even further. 

“I’m here.”

Edward’s face didn’t change, but Thomas could see the relief wash over him in the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He grabbed on to Thomas’ arm just above the elbow with a vice-like grip and didn’t lessen up for the entire walk back to the cottage. Thomas thought he was going to have a bruise there, but he didn’t particularly mind. It would reassure him that this was all real. 

They didn’t say anything either, there would be time for talking later. Even once they reached the cottage and Anna let them in, setting out tea and a small breakfast in the sitting room and then closing the door, letting them be, Edward didn’t move to say a word, so Thomas just let him be silent and take it all in. 

The white curtains in the room were drawn, and with just the ticking of the mantlepiece clock, it felt like when you just wake up and everything is still hazy and not yet real. The pair of them sat next to each other on the small sofa, but Edward had let go of his arm, and they were no longer touching. Thomas wasn’t sure what to do, but he reached for Edward’s hand where it lay on the sofa, and then the other man didn’t pull away, he began to run his fingers up and down the back of Edward’s hand, drawing patterns that didn’t mean anything.

After a few minutes, Edward turned his hand over and gripped Thomas’, but at the same time bent over and put his face in his other hand, breathing stiffly. Thomas wanted to comfort him, to say that he was safe or that everything was going to be alright, but ultimately, he knew that these were false promises. Instead, he moved closer to Edward, letting go of his hand to place it gently on the back of his neck, gently caressing the chestnut hair that had grown too long and begun to curl.

“Breathe, love. Breathe.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: internalized-homophobia, "conversion therapy", brief mention of suicide

When his breathing finally slowed, Edward tilted his head in Thomas’ direction, “Tell me how you’ve been?” he asked softly, voice still shaky.

Thomas almost pushed back, as he felt that how he’d been couldn’t conceivably matter in this situation when, after his moment of hesitation, Edward sighed, “…please,” and Thomas understood that he was fishing for a distraction, having fished and come up empty handed for much of his life himself.

“I’ve been alright, I suppose. The house is the same as always…” Thomas began to talk about the few new hall boys they’d hired and the guests that had come to the house as Edward nodded in silence and nibbled half-heartedly at a piece of toast.

“I ought to thank Lady Mary at some point…” Edward interrupted after a moment, his voice flat in the still air.

“Yes, probably, but that’s not a thing to worry about today.”

“Not sure when to worry about what, really,” he mumbled.

“Well worry about it when you’re ready, not when you think it’s expected of you.”

“I rather think no one will have any expectations for me at all at this point.”

“Does anyone else know that you’re here?”

“No one else knows that I’m out.”

“Well then, you have plenty of time to think about what you ought or ought not to do, and none of that needs to be decided now.” Thomas placed his hand on Edward’s knee in a way he hoped was comforting, and Edward nodded tiredly. “Why don’t we take a rest?” Thomas suggested, and Edward nodded again, taking one last sip of the now-cold tea and standing.

\---

Anna was kind enough to run a bath and take his clothes to the laundry, and Thomas felt particularly useless standing around not knowing quite what to do. He gave Edward some time on his own, though he wasn’t sure if that was the right choice or not, and went to collect the clothes he’d brough for Edward along with his own shaving kit. 

After pacing up and down the hallway one too many times, he knocked on the bathroom door and Edward told him to come in.

Against the porcelain tub, he looked horrifically pale, and the spots on his eyes were dark enough that they could almost be bruises. It made Thomas queasy looking at him, knowing that he must have only looked worse all those years ago, but he pulled up the bath stool next to the rim of the bath and reached out to run his hand through the wet curls plastered across the other man’s forehead.

“Would you let me give you a haircut?” Thomas asked, skating his hand down the rim of Edward’s ear to the long curls at the back of his neck.

“Mmh” Edward hummed noncommittedly.

“Yes?”

“Alright,” he agreed, eyes closed against his touch.

After a few more moments of stillness and touch, Edward shifted to get out, and Thomas searched around for a moment until he found the thickest towel in the room to give him before handing him the clothes. It felt wrong to keep looking at him when he was exposed and had likely spent the last four months with eyes on him that he couldn’t match, so Thomas turned away and sorted out his shaving kit before getting up from the stool and having Edward change places.

As he sat down, Edward fidgeted with the collar of his jumper, “Is this mine?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes, I’ve another of yours as well.”

“You were in London?”

“A while ago, yes. I couldn’t carry back much, but Mrs. Lawrence said she would keep the rest of your things for you.”

“Oh,” was all he said, eyes wide, and then finally, “Thank you. I’ll have to thank her as well…”

Thomas placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and then asked, “Is there any particular way you want your hair?”

“Doesn’t really matter to me. Cut it how you like.”

Thomas took his time carefully trimming the wet strands – cutting enough for him to look polished and taken care of but leaving enough for it to still twist as it dried. Edward barely moved an inch the whole time, hand still gripping his shirt collar, which caused Thomas to pause before asking, “Shall I give you a shave as well?”

Edward agreed but remained stiff. It felt different with a lover, Thomas realized: the hands light against his head and blade against his cheek. Edward pressed his lips and eyes tightly closed, and Thomas could feel his hands twitching where they rested close to his knee. He had to pretend that he was back at Downton and it was just for work so that his own hands didn’t begin to follow suit.

Afterwards, he ran his thumb in slow circles against the now-smooth skin of Edward’s cheekbone until the other man let out a shaky breath. 

Edward leaned into his hand for a moment and asked, “Would it be alright if we laid down for a while?”

“Of course, whatever you like, love,” Thomas replied, taking due note of his use of the plural.

\---

Once on their makeshift bed, Thomas stayed still and let Edward decide how he wanted to be. He seemed to hesitate for a moment but eventually shifted forward until he could rest his head in the crook of Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas wrapped an arm around is back and buried his nose in the other man’s hair, closing his eyes against the surge of emotion that lit through him.

“You have to go back to work tomorrow, don’t you.”

“I’m afraid so, but there’s plenty of hours in today yet.”

They stayed like that, just sharing warmth, for quite a long time, and Thomas began to wonder if Edward might have fallen asleep when he spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“They tried to make me hate you.”

Thomas felt himself flinch and then bit his lip. He couldn’t help the panic that ran up his veins.

“They didn’t succeed, if you were wondering,” Edward continued, tapping his finger rhythmically against Thomas’ arm.

Edward shifted slightly, curling tighter against Thomas’ side before continuing again, “They also tried to get me to hate myself…”

Thomas didn’t want to ask if they succeeded, and Edward didn’t provide an answer.


End file.
